Not All Who Are Fallen Are Lost
by Jay 2K Winger
Summary: A Fallen House calls for peace with the City, a new Guardian rises, and these events trigger a new war between mankind and the Fallen.
1. A Kell's Decision

**CHAPTER ONE: A Kell's Decision**

* * *

There was a tension in the air aboard the ketch. It vibrated in the bulkheads. It passed in the whispered words of its crew, dregs and vandals and captains all. It thrummed in the ether they breathed. There was unhappiness with the one who sat in the throne of their Kell, and dactyls closed around daggers and swords. Everyone was waiting for the first person to loose their blade.

It was not an unknown feeling. Since the Whirlwind had swept their people off their worlds and sent them fleeing into the stars, they had become a spiteful race. Scavenging anything they could from worlds left dead by the Whirlwind. In some cases, the worlds weren't completely dead, and blood had been spilled as they took what they wanted from the remains. If the spoils weren't good enough, or if too many of their own perished in pain and lost ether, then the spite turned inward and upward. Vandals found themselves surrounded with the fury of their dregs. Captains, confronted by enraged or simply ambitious vandals. Barons, staring down the barrel of a captain's cannon. And, in extremis, Kells could be cast down from their high chairs. To show weakness was to invite a blade in one's back.

But the higher the blade sought, the more cautious it became.. One did not become a Kell because one showed kindness. A Kell was strong. A Kell was ruthless. A Kell's gaze must reach both far and broad and around behind. A Kell's hand was closed in a fist, not open in mercy. And thus the ketch had grown tense. Their Kell had made a declaration of intent, and the shock of its meaning had rippled through the House like a tidal wave. Those below the House nobility knew it would cause disruption and there would be the howl of a coup. But their Kell was savvy to this, and those seeking to overturn the throne were cautious in the face of it. And so the Barons made one final attempt to convince their leader of his folly.

"You would parley with the _She'lot_?" Baron Morsik's eyes burned, and the fur lining of his cape seemed to bristle with the anger that emanated from him. He was an older example of their kind, grizzled and battle-tested. He had once eyed the Kell's chair for himself, before the current Kell claimed it, and the whispers were he still coveted it. He slammed both right fists upon the high table. He welcomed the pain in his flesh hand, even as his metal hand left minute cracks in the surface. "After all they have done to us? They are thieves, hoarding the blessings for themselves, while slaughtering us at every turn!"

The thread was picked up by Archon Nemak. "They profess to be tolerant people, but they are liars, all!" The priestess smacked the shank beside him, and it obediently projected a series of holograms above the table. "Look back at their history, which we've pulled from the ruins of their cities! Hatred, warfare, violence, since before their histories started!" The sneer dripped from Nemak's words as she drew herself up, dactyls curling on the haft of her halberd of office. "Liars. Thieves. Killers. These are the _people_ ," she spat the word, "to which you seek to surrender?"

All eyes turned to the two other Barons around the high table. Both were highly placed in the Kell's trust, but this did not mean they followed him blindly. Lakonis had risen through the ranks in typical fashion, slaying vandal, then captain, then baron, but had done so in a methodical way. He did not take action rashly, and he used words like he used his wire rifle. He stood with both flesh arms folded, while his metal dactyls rested at his waist, within easy reach of his sword and knife. His ether-mask bore the scars of his battles, and he had long eschewed replacing it.

Across from him was the youngest to stand at the table, but this did not translate to weakness. She had earned her right to stand at the table many times over. The least of her accomplishments was surviving multiple confrontations with the _Sha'ir_. Though raised to Baroness, she was new enough to the rank she still wore the armor of a captain. All of her eyes were closed as she appeared to be deep in thought, her metal arms folded behind her back, the knuckles of her flesh dactyls pressed to the table.

Morsik growled. "Do neither of you have anything to say to convince our Kell not to treat with the _She'lot_?"

Lakonis' cerulean gaze shifted from the Kell to his fellow Baron, regarding him coolly. Then he spread his metal paws. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. "I have nothing to give to your argument. The Kell will decide as the Kell will."

"And what of you?" Nemak demanded of the young Baroness. "Tell us, Feniks, whether you agree that the Kell's plan will doom us all."

Baroness Feniks opened her out-left eye first, its amber glow fixing on the Archon. She straightened up and spread all four hands. "What more is there to say? Both you and Morsik have said it already. Anything I'd say would be redundant." All four eyes opened and she gestured to the figure sat in the chair at the head of the table. "Let the Kell now convince us why his path is the course we should follow."

Semakis leaned forward, breath hissing through his ether-mask. One hand held the haft of his primary sword in a reverse-grip over the arm of the chair. Thrust through a bandolier across his chest were a pair of shock pistols and his ornate crested mask turned to look from one advisor to the next. Rising to his feet, he smacked his fist on the console before him. The air crackled as he broadcast his voice across the ship.

"Eliksni of this House. This is Semakis, your Kell." Around the table, the activity of the bridge stilled, and eyes turned to the House's ruler. "You all know my intentions. To contact the humans of their City- what other Houses call the City That Docks- and petition for ceasefire between them and our House, in the hopes of a lasting peace between Eliksni and the humans."

He paced around the table as he spoke, both sets of hands clasped behind his back, the grand cape bearing his House sigil stirring behind him. "There are those of this House who question my decision. Who call me insane, inflicted with a madness like the rabid Wolf Skolas. I have heard their arguments- that I would sell my House into slavery to the humans, as the Wolves had been to the Reef Folk. That the humans are the _She'lot_ , that they hoard the Blessings of the Great Machine for themselves, while sending their _Sha'ir_ death-dealers to kill our people. That they are liars, thieves, and killers to a singular. That we are too proud to suffer the hand-outs of the _She'lot_ , to expect them to show us mercy. That to even consider such an idea is a sign of weakness that proves I do not deserve to be your Kell."

As he spoke these words, he paused behind Morsik, who growled. Semakis met his gaze levelly. "To anyone who thinks me weak, I invite you to step forward and try to claim my seat in the throne." He and the Baron glared at one another, but Morsik subsided, breaking the stare-down first. The Kell continued, "I have heard the objections. And now let me explain why this is the only way forward."

He resumed his pace around the high table. "We all know what the other races call us. They call us 'Fallen.' And why? Because they look at us and they can see signs of what we used to have." He clenched his fist and raised it high. "We are Eliksni! We were a proud and noble race. We had spread to countless planets, we enjoyed prosperity that some races can only dream about attaining. But then," he thumped his fist on the table again, "came the Whirlwind. The innumerable Houses of our shining era were scoured from the worlds, leaving a paltry number to flee to the stars. Now our people are left to scavenge and starve.

"Some might say that we have nonetheless survived." Semakis snarled with a rattle of his teeth. "The Houses have dwindled. We fight each other for the meager things we have stolen. We climb the ranks by slaughtering those above us. And the humans- all the races that look upon us- see these things and so they call us 'Fallen.'"

His voice turned somber. "Because we have. Where is the nobility we once had? Lost to the Whirlwind. We take from those who have what we want. The Wolves once swore fealty to the Reef Kell, and they broke their oaths and made war upon her. If someone opposes us, we offer nothing except fire and blade and death. You say that the humans are thieves, liars, and killers? Then what does that make us?"

Semakis paced around the end of the table and moved on. "We do, as a people, need to unite. All Houses together. But not to fight the humans. They fought us off at our strongest, but we are not strong now. The Winter are without leaders. The Exiles are oath-breakers and outcasts who refuse unity. The Wolves were scourged and culled for their treason. And the Devils have been broken thrice over for their warmongering. The Houses have tried to steal back the Great Machine, and we have been docked for it."

He looked to Nemak, who straightened up proudly. "I claim no prophecy. I am not of the House of Rain, lost to the Whirlwind. I claim no true foresight." He resumed his walk, his eyes roaming around the bridge. "But I can see our future, spooling out to its end. We continue to dwindle away. We squabble over scraps. We turn on each other. We starve. It won't be the human City that ends us. It will be our own petty hatreds and stubborn pride that finally does it. I _will not_ see our people fade away to such a fate!"

His shout shook the halls of the great ketch as he pivoted back at the head of the high table again. "So _any_ Eliksni that disagrees with me," Semakis drew his swords and roared, "Be they Kell or dreg, face me and burn!"

Silence fell as the Kell stared down the table at the other leaders of his House. Morsik's dactyls flexed around the butt of his rifle, and the Archon's halberd scraped on the deck plating momentarily. Lakonis said nothing, merely watched the others around the table. Finally, Baroness Feniks spoke.

"Seeking peace is not weakness." She drew her blades and laid them on the table, hafts pointing to the throne. "However, seeking war is not strength. Asking for parley with the human City is not treason to the House, but if the humans reject peace, then so be it- this House will bring them war." She drew herself up and glared at Morsik and Nemak defiantly. "Baroness Feniks stands with our Kell."

Lakonis turned to look at her, arms still folded, and then nodded once. "She speaks higher reason." He picked up his wire rifle and placed it on the table, the stock pointed toward the throne. "Baron Lakonis stands with his Kell."

There was a raspy growl from Morsik, who looked ready to speak. Nemak tapped her halberd against the deck to interrupt him. "I have seen too many of our Servitors destroyed by the _She'lot_. Other houses have seen their Prime Servitors slain." She growled and shook her head from side to side. "I have no wish to see this House's Prime destroyed like the rest. So." She lifted her halberd and held it out in her metal palms toward the throne. "Archon Nemak stands with the Kell."

All eyes now turned to the last Baron. Morsik growled again, then turned and walked away from the high table. Nemak watched him go. "Baron Morsik stands apart from the Kell," she declared. She turned to Semakis. "Is he cast out?"

The Kell watched Morsik leave, and as the Baron reached the hatch, he finally spoke. "Morsik is no longer Baron of this House." He saw the old Eliksni stop. "He is cast out. He has no rank here." Morsik turned to look at him, and Semakis added, "But I am moved to be merciful to the one who taught me the arts of battle. I will not dock him of his arms. Go, old friend, but do not show yourself in my presence again. Seek your place with another House, if any will take you." Morsik glared up at them, then reached up and tore the cape from his shoulders. He threw this onto the deck, before clasping both right fists over his breastplate. He bowed stiffly, then swept around and stormed out of the bridge.

Semakis nodded and then his voice raised again. "The leaders of this House have spoken. The way forward is clear. The Whirlwind will rage, but we Eliksni will howl our defiance to the finish. Keep your weapons ready. Though we will ask for peace, we must be ready for war. Semakis, Kell, has spoken."

* * *

 **Afterword:** After some thought, I decided to abandon my _Destiny_ fanfic "The Black Hole of Calcutta" in favor of telling different stories in the universe. Some characters and concepts are being recycled and redeveloped for this story.

 **Eliksni translations:**

 _She'lot_. Thief (of) Blessing/Traveler. Fallen term for humanity.

 _Sha'ir_. Gift (of) Light. Fallen term for Guardian.


	2. A Council's Decision

**CHAPTER 2: A Council's Decision**

* * *

It was not often the Vanguard were seen outside the Hall of Guardians. But the rumor mill was spinning, and those who had been in the Tower Watch when the Vanguard were summoned to the Speaker's chambers had spread the word. It had to do, the gossip said, with the missive sent from the Fallen. A ceasefire? With one of the City's oldest enemies? Surely not, they said. Surely it is just another Fallen trick.

And then Executor Hideo of the New Monarchy was summoned to the chambers. As was Lakshmi-2 of the Future War Cult, and Arach Jalaal of Dead Orbit. And the rumors just grew and grew...

* * *

Seven people stood equal distance apart around the circular holo-display. With his back to the view of the City stood the Speaker, the ultimate voice of the Traveler and de facto leader of the City itself. To either side stood Zavala and Ikora Rey, Commander of the Vanguard and the Hidden respectively. Hideo and Jalaal stood to Ikora's left, while to Zavala's right stood Lakshmi and Cayde-6, the Hunter Vanguard. All had heard the missive from the Fallen, and now their eyes turned to the Speaker.

"Are we going to accept this call for a ceasefire?" Lakshmi was the first to speak.

"We can't ignore the chance they are sincere," Zavala rested his knuckles on the console. "To be able to focus our resources and attention somewhere else, that could help us push back the other forces in the system."

The Speaker gave a simple nod. "And if a peace holds with one House, then other Fallen Houses may fall in line as well. Perhaps even an alliance."

There was an angry noise from Hideo. "There won't be a lot of happy people in this City if we make peace with the Fallen. There are a lot of families who lost loved ones in recent skirmishes, and people still remember the losses we suffered in at Twilight Gap or the Battle of Six Fronts." He spread his hands. "I desire peace as much as anyone, but there will be a lot of unrest over this."

"Unrest as far as open rebellion?"

"I don't believe so. Not from New Monarchy, at least. We don't hold with disharmony or seek to perpetuate a war." This last was said with a glare to Lakshmi.

The elderly Exo simply kept her gaze serene. "The Future War Cult has always been practical about the need to be ready for conflict. We don't look to fight within our walls, but to face the dangers outside them." She turned to the Speaker. "If these Fallen are genuine, then we can turn our weapons from them, but I do council caution."

"As do we all," Jalaal agreed. "What do we know about this Kell and his House?"

Ikora spoke up. "The House of Gears was apparently renowned for its inventiveness and mechanical prowess before their civilization collapsed. Their ships and weapons are different from most other Houses in the system, which has helped them maintain control over most of North America, while the Devils controlled almost everything else on Earth. They kept themselves out of Skolas' power struggle, and after Six Fronts, they kept to themselves. As a result, their leadership is still intact, compared to most other major Houses."

She tapped the console, and a holo-image of a tall Fallen male appeared, clad in ornate armor with a crested helmet. "This is Semakis, the Gears' Kell. During the Reef Wars, he rose to power by brutally slaughtering any opposition, and has resisted any attempts to unseat him. Apparently, he's something of a visionary and a charismatic leader. He's seen how his people have fared so far and wants peace so they don't destroy themselves trying to destroy us."

"So he's tough, popular, and smart." Cayde's tone was dry. "Sounds like a dangerous combination."

"His parley for peace hasn't been without resistance," Ikora added. "There have been break-aways that have fled elsewhere in the system. We don't know yet if they're gathering around any leadership, but the Exiles on the Moon are paying close attention." She paused for a moment, allowing all present to consider the grim possibilities of the outcast Fallen finding a new ally before continuing. "At the very least, all the intel I've been able to receive shows that Semakis is genuine in his desire for peace. He's not so foolish as to ask to meet here in the City, but on the closest thing to neutral ground in the ruins of Old Paris." A sweeping gesture, and the holo-images of the Fallen vanished, replaced by a map of Europe, colored lines marking the territories of the City's authority and Fallen Houses. "It's just on the fringes of territory we've managed to take back, and the House of Kings controls most of the rest of the area, with some lingering Devil presence. It's notably not anywhere near his own territory, and the Devils know they're not in a condition to oppose him. The Kings might be an issue, but they still seem to be watching for the time being, waiting to see how things shake out from this."

Jalaal grumbled softly. "What about the Reef's pet Fallen? Has he given his opinion on this?"

"Variks agrees that Semakis is probably sincere. Those Fallen still loyal to the Reef are casting their support behind him."

The Speaker nodded gravely. "Will we accept his call for parley?" He looked around the room, and one by one, the faction reps and the Vanguard all nodded in agreement. "Who shall we send to negotiate with him?"

"Obviously, sir," Zavala's tone was deferential, "you should stay here. If you were to go out there, it might be too much an opportunity for the Devils or Kings to make a move."

Lakshmi folded her hands behind her back. "One of we faction reps should accompany whomever you send. We can negotiate terms of a ceasefire."

"Agreed," Jalaal said. "But not you, I think, Lakshmi. To send the head of the Future _War_ Cult to peace talks would strike the Fallen as disingenuous."

The Exo frowned at him, but then gave the dark-haired Awoken a nod of acknowledgment. "Nor should you go, then, dear Arach. Your knowledge is primarily off-world, while the Gears made their nest here. Therefore I nominate Executor Hideo to speak on behalf of the City." When the man looked at her in surprise, she bowed slightly. "You carry a great deal of respect among the people. Knowing you are speaking for them may quell any unrest that arises."

He considered this for a moment, then bowed. "Thank you, Lakshmi. I shall do my best to not let anyone down." He looked around. "And the Vanguard?"

"I have to coordinate my teams to maintain their vigils on the other Houses and forces in the system." Ikora folded her arms. "I don't trust the Hive or Cabal not to make a move, and the Hidden will only report to me."

"And I have to stand guard here in the City and dispatch any teams necessary to stop an attack." Zavala shook his head. "So I must stay here."

Cayde sighed as all eyes turned to him. "Here we go."


	3. A Call for Parley

**CHAPTER 3: A Call For Parley**

* * *

The Vanguard faced the three Guardians that had been summoned into their private conference room. "Let me start by saying I can't think of a better trio to provide cover support for our delegation," Cayde's tone was jovial. "Most importantly, me." He broke off a moment to lean aside from Zavala's annoyed swat. "Given we'll be dealing with Fallen, who better to watch my back than the three who took down Skolas?"

The three Guardians shared a look. The Titan wore the armor he had forged after helping slay the Monster of Luna, painted black in defiance of the Darkness that he fought against in the field, his face bearing the scars he'd earned before his second life. The Warlock stood in robes of the Spektar line, a simple gray color but shining with glowing purple chroma. An Exo with a white chassis and khaki-colored plating, his eyes were hidden behind a visor, a ridge adorning the top of his head with four plugs surrounding it. Their Hunter stood in her crimson cloak, sporting the armor she had forged after helping defeat the Taken King. Her Awoken gold eyes stared flatly out from the shadows of her hood, one eye partially hidden behind a half-pageboy haircut. Her face bore the markings that denoted her as formerly belonging to the Queensguard.

Whereas the Titan and Warlock had shared that look, the Hunter merely kept her gaze level upon Cayde, but she was running a whetstone along the edge of her knife. The Hunter Vanguard looked slightly uneasy under that stare. The Warlock finally broke the silence. "Are we to assume the rumors we've heard are true?"

"I can't speak for what those rumors may or may not have told you," Cayde gratefully looked to the other Exo, "but we have accepted the House of Gears' call for parley. We'll be heading out to Old Paris shortly." He gave a brief synopsis of the situation, noting that Kell Semakis wanted to forge a peace out of a ceasefire, but that his doing so was causing conflict among the Fallen. Executor Hideo would accompany them to speak on behalf of the City's interests. The fireteam would provide security for mankind's representatives, just as the Kell would likely bring his own bodyguards.

"Morgan," Cayde pointed to the Titan, "you'll be on close-range defense. You keep Hideo and I under cover. Shaman-9," he turned to the Warlock, "will keep an eye out in mid-range. And that leaves deadly little Yurei," he nodded to the Hunter, "who will keep an eye out for snipers. And, if needs must, to take out the Kell or his bodyguards."

"We're expecting trouble, then?" Shaman always liked clarification and establish rules of engagement.

"It's the Fallen," Morgan grunted. "Always expect trouble."

"Yes, but you're biased." Shaman gave a brief chuckle to assure his comrade he was teasing, then nodded to Cayde. "Send the coordinates to our Ghosts. We'll head out and get Yurei in position, then meet up with you."

* * *

Four City jumpships hung in the air above Old Paris as Executor Hideo and Cayde-6 transmatted onto the old streets. Old Paris had been hit hard during the Collapse, and many of its buildings had sunken into ruin and disrepair, not least due to the fluctuating boundaries between the Fallen Houses that fought over it. With the House of Devils' decline, the City had managed to push out and establish some safe zones, allowing Warlocks and Cryptarchs to begin the endless task of trying to salvage knowledge from the wreckage.

Shaman-9 rose from his seat on the rusted hulk of an old ground vehicle. He cradled his fusion rifle- the Darkblade's Spite- in his hands, a hand cannon on one hip, and his Dark Drinker sword on the other. "Gentlemen, welcome to Paris. If you'll come with me?" He gestured up the street, where the remnants of the Louvre Museum stood waiting. "Our... guests should be here soon. Morgan has already secured the area, and Yurei is monitoring the approaches. No hostiles in the area. A few of Shaxx's Redjacks are on the far side of the city, who may be able to provide support in a pinch, and there are a handful of Ghosts exploring the catacombs and other areas around here. So there's an off-chance we may have some new Risen to deal with if they find who they're looking for."

He lowered his voice as he stood between them. "We suspect the Gears are already watching us. Yurei says they have a sniper of their own on-site. They've exchanged warning shots, just so they know where one another stand." The Exo nodded to Hideo. "Relax, Executor, your safety is our number-one priority."

"I'm assuming I'm included in that," Cayde interjected.

Shaman just looked at him for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

They stepped into the ruins of the museum. Some of the artwork and artifacts that had been displayed here had managed to survive, and the City had reclaimed as many as they could when they took back the area. Some, they knew, had been stolen or destroyed by the Devils, and the ones that remained had been reduced to tragic shadows of their original selves, left exposed to the elements for centuries. Many Cryptarchs and Warlocks had wept to see such treasures lost.

Morgan straightened up as they entered, his Khvostov cradled in his massive hands, and both an Immobius shotgun and the rocket launcher known as the Ash Factory clipped to his back. He grunted, then raised a hand and tapped the side of his helmet. "Yurei just told me our guests have arrived. They'll be up ahead."

Cayde nodded. He turned to Hideo and gestured in an "after you" manner, heading for a gallery. Morgan followed along, pausing as the Vanguard turned back to Shaman, who was already settling into a meditative position as his Warlock senses stretched out. "Now, remember, if anything happens to me, or you don't hear from me within the hour, you come and you rescue me!"

Shaman's visored gaze turned to flatly stare at him. Cayde pointed a finger, "I mean it. It's cold out here. I don't wanna get left."

When the City's representatives reached the gallery, they saw three Fallen already present. One was unquestionably Semakis, Kell of Gears. The other two wore the armor of captains. One stood further back, by the sunken tunnel they had obviously arrived through, cradling a shrapnel launcher in its arms. The other stood by the Kell, its swords on its hips, but cradling a strange shock rifle in its arms. It looked heavily modified, with a jagged bayonet of some kind under its barrel.

The Kell had picked up the rotten frame of an old painting in one set of hands, while the other set brushed at the grime and muck that had accumulated on its canvas with a surprising delicacy. It was difficult for mankind to read a Fallen's expression, owing to the ether-masks that all Fallen wore, but there seemed to be a somber melancholy in the Kell's amber eyes. He carefully set the frame down as the nearer captain gave the rattling growl of warning, and then he turned to face the three that had entered.

Semakis spread his arms to the sides, brushing his cape open to reveal the weapons on his hip. He drew the swords, causing Cayde to draw his hand cannon, but then the Kell reversed the grip on them and laid the swords down, hafts toward the Exo. He spoke then in the Fallen tongue as he rose back to his full height. The captain nearby then spoke in slightly broken English. "The Kell of Gears greets you and thanks you for accepting his call for parley. He understands your language, but has no knack for speaking it." There was a pause, during which Cayde realized the Fallen in front of him was female, before she went on, "The swords are symbolic gesture, yes? Badge of authority. He is placing himself in your trust."

Hideo and Cayde shared a look, before the Exo raised the Ace of Spades, giving it a spin on one finger before flipping it around, gripping it by the barrel and setting it on the bench between the Kell's blades, the grip directed at Semakis. Hideo drew out his own hand cannon, the Free Will III, and did likewise. The Kell gave a slow nod and then looked to the captain, issuing a short command. She translated, "He bids me introduce his guard. Captain there is Tethiks, the Swift. Nearby is Baron Lakonis, the Quiet. A sniper, yes?" Then she tapped her own breastplate with a spare hand. "I am Baroness Feniks." She spread her spare hands wide and leaned forward in something that was almost, but not quite, completely unlike a curtsy.

"No sobriquet for you, then?" Cayde inquired. When she appeared blank, he added, "No other name you've picked up?"

The Baroness shook herself slightly with a growl, then said, "None that I wish to repeat to you." She then looked from one to the other. "And who has the City That Docks sent?"

Hideo gave Cayde another look, mouthing 'City That Docks?' but the Exo waved him into silence. "This is Hideo, Executor of the New Monarchy, a faction of influence in the City." The faction rep gave a bow. "Over here is Titan Morgan, the Scarred, a veteran of the Six Fronts." The Titan glared first at Cayde, for the unofficial sobriquet and the embellishment, but then he turned his glower at the Fallen, as if daring them to make a move. "We've also got Warlock Shaman, the Visored, providing support, and nearby is our own sniper, Hunter Yurei, the Silent, who killed the Mad Wolf."

Semakis gave a rumble at that, and even Feniks hissed slightly. Seeing their reaction, the Baroness explained, "Skolas, the Rabid. He is... not favored by House Gears." She gave a twitch of her head, as if dismissing the topic, and looked at the Exo again. "And you are?"

Feeling he needed to provide a little gravitas or dignity to his own introduction, Cayde attempted a sweeping bow that ended up almost being a curtsy, pulling his cloak aside as he did. "Cayde-6, Hunter Vanguard." When this just got a blank look, he added, "I'm kind of a big deal."

Semakis rasped out a chuckle, then spread one set of hands simply as he spoke a phrase. "The Kell wishes to begin our talks," Feniks supplied. "Simply put, House Gears wants no more conflict with the City." He spoke again. "All Eliksni loyal to Semakis will not fire upon City Folk, and City Folk will not fire upon Gears Eliksni, yes?"

"It cannot be as simple as that," Hideo said. "And we must warn you- not all of mankind live under the City's protection. We cannot speak for them." It was true. While the overwhelming majority of mankind had fled to the Last City in the wake of the Collapse, there were still settlements that had withstood the Dark Age, usually with the help of their own Risen. And they all tended to resist being brought under the City's protectorate.

Semakis shook himself slightly and rasped a response. "Nor can Semakis speak for all Houses. But other Houses will see higher reason. To fight is to lose more and more Eliksni, more and more ether, more and more resources. To end the fighting with City Folk, gives Eliksni a chance to earn Great Machine's blessing once more."

Hideo folded his arms thoughtfully. "And this is all you wish from us? A ceasefire?"

"No reason to seek more yet." The Kell's breath hissed as he sighed. "House Gears has nothing to offer City Folk, not anything City Folk would trust. But, give time, yes? Sincerity is proven, peace holds, and perhaps trade? Mutual defense against Hive, against Cabal."

Cayde drummed his fingers in contemplation. "It's not unreasonable," he remarked to Hideo. "And it's not as if either side entirely trusts the other..." He looked up at the Kell. "What if the other Houses rally against you?"

"Then House Gears will be cast into the Whirlwind." Feniks growled softly as she added, "Or Semakis will be overthrown. All Houses against House Gears is impossible fight. They will dock us all, if they do not kill us."

"Heads up!" Morgan's voice suddenly cut through the peace talks. He snapped his Khvostov up and started checking angles. "Yurei says we have incoming! Multiple skiffs emerging!" He paused as he listened over the comms and added, "They're in the Gears' colors!" He leveled his rifle in the direction of the Kell and the Baroness.

Semakis growled. "Not my Gears," Feniks translated. He turned his gaze upward, and the lights in his eyes shifted from amber to red. Cayde realized the lenses in the Kell's mask had some kind of scanners inside them. The tall Fallen's head turned in big sweeping motions before he stopped and unleashed a huge roar. Feniks shook her rifle in the air and roared as well. "It is Morsik, former Baron of House Gears! He refused to follow Semakis, and was cast out."

Shaman came running into the gallery, at the same time as the other Fallen captain, Tethiks, approached himself from the other direction. "Getting a lot of heat on the radar, Cayde," the Warlock warned him. "We need to get you and the Executor out of here."

"Do it, Shay," Morgan cocked his rifle. "I'll stay here to cover your escape."

"The hell with that." Cayde reclaimed his hand cannon and tossed Hideo his. "I'm staying." He then glanced at his radar tracker and noticeably sagged a bit. "That's... a lot of Fallen."

"You think we can't handle this many?" Morgan asked, as the Kell and his guards put themselves in a triangular formation, aimed outward.

Cayde glanced around, and remarked, "Well, it might be tough if we get one more dropping in."

To their surprise, Feniks snarled, "That will be the one I take care of."

Cayde turned to her and cracked a smile. "What, you're fighting, too?"

But any further quips and jokes died as they saw a shadow descending through the shattered skylight above. They all scattered just as a Spider Walker crashed through the ceiling, unfolding itself with a crackle of vicious energies, its cannons and guns firing around it in a storm of lethal fury.

"Well," Morgan muttered, "you did say if one more showed up, it might be tougher."

Cayde sighed. "Me and my big dumb mouth."


	4. Aggressive Negotiations

**CHAPTER 4: Aggressive Negotiations**

* * *

The City representatives all dove behind cover as the Walker turned, its bullet-shaped head pivoting as its sensors tracked the targets. Semakis and his bodyguards were behind their own cover, and they gave furious roars as it fired toward them. Answering roars echoed around them, and Cayde saw the shine of Fallen eyes in the tunnels behind the Kell's group. "Incoming party crashers!" the Hunter Vanguard called out. "More friends of yours, Semakis?"

The Kell of Gears snarled something. Feniks called back, "Not our Gears! They are outcasts who followed Morsik the Hammer!"

Morgan's auto-rifle barked as he fired at the Walker's legs, ducking into cover and jerking his arm out of the way as its repeater cannon chewed stone from the wall. He glanced back, then reported, "I'm not seeming to do any damage!"

"Gears Walker," Feniks confirmed. "Extra armor added." She growled. "Was not yet ready to deploy. Morsik stole it from foundries." She barked something in Fallen tongue, and they saw the other Gears Captain, Tethiks, raise a hand in acknowledgment. Semakis dipped his head in agreement. "We will deal with the Walker, City Folk! We do not wish to kill other Gears!"

Cayde nodded. "Fireteam," he transmitted to the Guardians who had accompanied them, "the Kell and his party will deal with the Walker as best they can. Focus your fire on the attacking Fallen." He heard Morgan and Shaman vocalize their acknowledgment. "Yurei? Do you copy?"

The Exo turned as a pair of Fallen rushed toward him, a Captain charging in behind a Vandal. He raised his hand cannon, but then both Fallen's heads exploded, and their bodies collapsed with a howl of escaping ether. Cayde looked up, as the crack of a sniper rifle finally reached him, and then Yurei's Ghost spoke over the comms. "Confirmed. The Redjacks are occupied by Fallen attackers of their own."

Cayde fanned the hammer of his Ace of Spades as he mowed down more attackers. "All right, Guardians, looks like we're on our own. Nothing we can't handle!"

* * *

As the Guardians drove the attacking Fallen soldiers back, Tethiks rushed forward to his Kell. He tossed his shrapnel launcher to Semakis, even as he drew two pistols from his bandoleer. The captain kept going, sliding underneath the Walker, firing shots into the rear of its joints, where it lacked armor. "Tethiks!" the Kell shouted. "Draw its fire!"

The captain nodded his understanding and fired twice more as he came up from under the Walker, teleporting from spot to spot as the tank's weapons swiveled to keep up with him. Semakis made an adjustment to the shrapnel launcher, and grunted as he heard the electromagnetic coils within spin to life. He darted to the machine's rear and hunkered down, firing underneath it. Rather than a spray of metallic shards, the weapon launched a spiky mass that hit the ground before exploding, discharging countless flechettes into the Walker's less armored underbelly.

With a whumph, the Walker's legs buckled and it collapsed, its head slumping as the vulnerable core was exposed. All three Eliksni focused their fire upon it, before Feniks unleashed a howl and leapt forward, landing astride the core, one foot planted on the tank's head, the other on its body, and plunging her rifle's jagged bayonet into the core. It thrashed, but she held her ground, and with a roar, ripped the bayonet sideways, tearing the core open. She teleported to safety as the Walker's core exploded, and the struggling machine fell over again and went still.

Cayde and the Guardians were managing to keep the ambushing Fallen back, but all combat stopped as the Walker exploded. The Fallen all turned to stare at this, leaving them easy prey for the Guardians' fire. Semakis climbed atop the wreckage of the tank, shrapnel launcher in one hand, swords brandished in two others, and he howled in rage. At the sight of the Kell, the attackers stepped back.

"Traitors and oath-breakers, all of you!" Semakis snarled at them. "You are, all of you, cast out of my House! The next wretch among you to attack your Kell will be docked lower than the lowest dreg!"

That was when Morsik the Hammer dropped through the hole in the roof, the head of his namesake weapon smashing the Kell in the back. He did not stand as tall as Semakis, but he was no less strong than him. An ether-hose ran back over one shoulder, the neck of his armor lined with gray fur. His metal arms were adorned with ritualistic scarring, like badges of honor from his long life of war. Strapped across his back was a large cannon of some kind, and he had pistols and swords lashed around his waist. And clutched in one hand was the aforementioned hammer, a broad-headed maul that glowed with scorch energy, sporting a long shaft.

The blow crumpled Semakis' armor and drove the Kell to his knees, a scorch shockwave blasting out from the point of impact, driving Tethiks and Feniks back. The shrapnel launcher fell from his hands, and then Morsik growled at him. "I made you the Eliksni you needed to be, wretch! You would not have become Kell if not for me!" He hauled the Kell up by the back of his neck to roar, "And you cast me out?!"

* * *

Cayde and Morgan tried to get a shot on the interloper, but he shook Semakis in one hand, spoiling their aim. Morsik swung the hammer around again, this time caving in the armor on Semakis' chest, the shockwave once more driving his bodyguards back, with the force of the impact sent the Kell hurtling into the wall. " _Nas auskt e ko Gar Bo ka!_ "

With the Kell out of the way, the Guardians opened fire, but Morsik's shields held, glimmering with scorch energy as he shifted the hammer to his metal fists. His other arms reached up and unslung the cannon from his back, working the massive lever on one side as the barrels spun up to speed. Cayde cursed. "That's a damn Colossus chaingun! Where the hell did he get that?!" He darted for cover, but there wasn't much left to find that hadn't been torn up by the Walker's attack.

Cayde heard the traitor Baron grunt, and then the crack of Yurei's sniper rifle. A glance showed Morsik's shields had shattered, and the feedback had staggered him. The chaingun in his hands spun down as he turned his head in the direction of the hidden sniper, roaring in fury. " _Di kas kir!_ " The massive cannon started to spin up again, but then a different sound tore through the air. A harsh buzzing sound shrieked as Feniks leapt up behind Morsik, her modified rifle's bayonet vibrating. It wasn't a jagged blade, it was a chainsaw.

Morsik clearly recognized it, but he could not get out of the way in time as Feniks, howling defiance, slashed at his back. Armor tore and the traitor Baron let out a scream of agony. Fallen ichor splashed on the ground as Feniks ripped the chainsaw free, then raised it with the intent of plunging deeper. In that instant, however, Morsik gripped his hammer and pivoted with surprising speed, given the injury. The head smashed into Feniks' chest, the shockwave lashing out again and the blow knocking the Baroness into another wall, where she landed with a shriek of pain.

The Guardians rose, Morgan having shouldered the Ash Factory and preparing a rocket for the wounded Baron. The Fallen growled with hate, but then vanished in a transmat field's shimmer. His forces all crouched down and disappeared as well, and Cayde looked up through the roof as he saw the overhead skiffs all depart into jumpspace. "Guardians, report," he demanded.

"Executor Hideo is safely aboard your ship," Shaman-9 reported as he ran back into the room, cleaning ichor off of his sword.

The voice of Yurei's Ghost came over the comms. "No casualties here."

Cayde looked to Morgan, who slung his rocket launcher back over his shoulder, then gave the Vanguard a thumbs-up. The Hunter Exo then turned to look at the Gears, and saw Captain Tethiks crouched beside the Kell, who was moving, but weakly. Jogging over, he heard Semakis' breath wheeze through his mask, and ichor dripped from around the ether hoses. The Kell's eyes glowed dimly and one hand reached up feebly.

"Shit." Cayde rubbed his horn. "He's in a bad way."

Morgan raised his Khvostov and aimed. "Should put him out of his misery, then."

Shaman shoved the rifle up and out of the way. "He came to us in peace, and we don't want word put out that the Guardians killed him, even if he had been betrayed." The Warlock turned to Cayde. "We should get him medical attention."

"Where?" Cayde demanded. "Most medical knowledge the City has about Fallen is how to best kill them! We're not equipped to keep them alive!"

"The Reef is." Shaman spread his hands. "The Queen had harbored the Wolves for years before they broke their oaths. Variks will know where to take him."

"Yeah, like the Reef's gonna be happy about harboring an enemy Kell," Morgan growled.

"No more than the City would be," Shaman returned.

"Shay's right," Cayde broke in. "We should get him to the Reef-" He stopped as Semakis' hand brushed against his leg, and followed the Kell's pointing dactyl.

It was pointing to Feniks. The Baroness' armor had also been crumpled by Morsik's hammer blow, but the impact had knocked her into a collapsed wall. Twisted, rusted rebar protruded from this, and now protruded from her chest. Ichor dribbled onto the rubble around her. As the Guardians all realized they'd forgotten about her, she hissed out a weak, "Keep Kell safe." And the amber glow of her eyes faded.

The Kell sagged back, his eyes closing, wheezing. Beside him, Tethiks pulled a canister and a hose from his belt. He attached these to Semakis' mask, then rested a hand on his commander's shoulder, speaking something in their language. He looked up to the Guardians. Cayde pinched the base of his horn and sighed. "Right. Shaman, get the Kell to the Reef." He looked to Tethiks. "Can you understand what we're saying?" When the Captain nodded, the Vanguard returned the nod before telling him, "Good. We're going to try to get the Kell medical attention at the Reef. Variks of the House of Judgment knows us and should help."

Tethiks nodded and spoke to the Kell, who gave a nod of understanding. Shaman spoke up. "I'm moving my ship overhead so we can transmat him up now." He crouched beside the injured Fallen, but the Kell raised a hand to stop him, then rasped something to the Captain, who bowed his head, then stood. Tethiks faced the Guardians and bowed, then tapped something on his armor's gauntlet. He teleported away and out of sight.

"I think he went back to the loyal Gears," Cayde explained. "Get going with the Kell, Shaman. Yurei, pull back and go with him. Morgan, you'll come back with the Executor and me to-"

He broke off as a Ghost swept into the room, scanning the area. It ignored the Guardians as it stopped and then expanded into an orb of blue light. "New Guardian?" Morgan mused aloud. "Wonder who they were." He glanced about the room. "No corpses or skeletons around for it to revive-"

There was a flash of Light. All present felt the pulse of the Traveler's energy flow around them, and the Ghost collapsed back into the familiar faceted ball shape as its chosen warrior was Risen. Feniks, Baroness of Gears, stood before them, freed of the rebar that had transfixed her. Her armor was pristine, gleaming, and inasmuch as the representatives of mankind could tell, looked as surprised as they were, staring down at herself, then at her empty hands.

The Ghost orbited around her once, as if checking for anything it had missed, and its eye shone brightly. Taking notice of the staring Morgan and Cayde, the Ghost turned back to Feniks and chirped, "Eyes up, Guardian."

Feniks stared at them. Cayde stared at her. Then he stared at Morgan. Then he stared at Feniks again. He became aware that he should say something. But all that came out of him was a dumbfounded, "Huh."

* * *

 **Afterword:** Now we come to the main crux of what story I wanted to tell. More chapters will come soon.

 **Eliksni translations:**

 _Nas auskt e ko Gar Bo ka!_ "All that bow to the Gears' banner shall burn."

 _Di kas kir!_ "Your death's going to hurt." (lit. Death burn strong)


	5. Called by the Light

**CHAPTER FIVE: Called by the Light**

* * *

Feniks' world had been one of rage. To see her Kell broken beneath the Hammer's blow, to be unable to come to his aid, to hear the traitor howling that her House would burn. A fire had filled her, burning as the ether in her lungs spread through her, searing her veins with her fury, so her breath had nearly steamed from her mask as she had lunged for the outcast's back. The air had been filled with shrieking noise, her own howl of righteous anger, the snarl of her weapon's chainsaw, the roar of the oath-breaker's agony as she had torn him open.

Then there had been pain. Blunt trauma as his scorching hammer had struck her. Raw hell as she had struck the collapsed wall. And sharp thrusting sensation as the twisted metal rods had pierced her. Attempting to move only made the pain more unbearable, and she could feel the ether seeping from her lungs, feel her life draining from her as her ichor had leaked out. That the pain was lessening had not comforted her. She knew that her breath would fade, and felt herself sliding into the numb tranquility that awaited her. She had only needed to give her one last beseeching plea to the _Sha'ir_ before she could let herself go.

And there had been a peace that settled over her as her eyes had closed. There was a darkness without fury, without pain. In those in-between moments, she remembered the tales told by the scribes, leftover from before the House of Judgment had dwindled and faded. They had said there would be this emptiness, and then she would go to the Calm Lands, where the Whirlwind could not reach. After a lifetime of struggle, fighting, and war, she longed for it.

But not all fires are so easily extinguished. There was, left inside what was fading, a last ember of defiance. Which wanted to burn on, to consume the wretch that had betrayed her House and her Kell. The last ember of her smoldered. There were no words here in the tranquility beyond the world. And yet there were words being spoken.

- _There you are. I can hardly believe it. A Fallen? No, wait, not Fallen. Eliksni, yes?_

There was light, now. No. Not light, but Light. She had wondered about the distinction, when listening to the scribes when she had still been a whelp, not even yet a Dreg, and had never fully understood. She wondered now if the scribes had even truly understood what they meant. The words were coming from that Light.

 _-I can only imagine how everyone will react to what's about to happen. But the Light led me to you, so it must be for a reason._

And then her world was pain. No. Not pain, but something else. It was like pain, but inverted. It felt indescribable, as if everything about her- not just her matter, but her very self- was being pulled in every direction at once, while simultaneously being compressed into a tiny, infinite ball. She felt that Light flowing into her, and the not-pain grew white bright and hot.

Her feet touched the ground, and as the whiteness cleared, there before her were the City Folk. The Vanguard Cayde, the Titan Morgan, the Warlock Shaman-9. And there on the ground, where she'd last seen him, her Kell.

 _-Let me get a proper look at you. There may be some momentary discomfort, sorry._

There was one of the metal balls the _Sha'ir_ had in front of her. Its faceted shell was a dull reddish hue with gray accents. Its eye shone briefly blue, before shading to an amber hue like her own. She felt the ball looking at her, as if its eye could see more than just her body. She looked down at herself again. The injuries that had doomed her had gone. The punctures in her armor were mended, with nary a sign they had ever been there. Everything had a bright, brushed-clean gleam to it, even her metal arms. The ichor which had leaked out of her no longer stained it, though she still saw the puddle on the ground where it had dripped. She drew in a lungful of ether, and felt the reassuring taste of it within her, but alongside it, there was a new edge to it. A taste, or a scent, or some combination of the two. Was this the Light?

The voice she'd been hearing spoke again, and she belatedly realized she'd been hearing it in her own head until just now. "Eyes up, Guardian." She looked up sharply, first at the metal ball, then saw the City Folk staring at her. The Vanguard's jaw hung slack in dazed shock, and then he vocalized his bewilderment.

Then the Titan beside him snapped up his rifle. "What the _fuck_ is going on?!" His helmeted glare turned to the metal ball beside the Eliksni. "Ghost, why did you bring back a Fallen Baroness?" he demanded.

The Ghost looked from him to Feniks, then back to the Titan. "She's my Guardian," it said, as if that explained everything.

Morgan clearly didn't like this response. "That's not an answer!"

She saw another Ghost shimmer into being beside him. Its shell was white with a black core, and despite lacking a proper face, it appeared to be glaring at the Titan. "It _is_ an answer, Morgan. Every Ghost is born knowing we have to find our Guardian."

Another Ghost appeared beside the Warlock, gleaming gold and blue. "We don't know what they look like. Not on the outside. But we are guided by the Light to our Guardian."

Feniks' metal hands fell to her sides, and gripped her blades of office there, assuring herself they were still there. A glance with her out-left eye showed her rifle on the floor, where she had dropped it after Morsik's attack. Her flesh dactyls itched to hold it, but the Titan kept his own weapon trained on her, even as the Warlock addressed him.

"Morgan, lower your gun," he ordered. "We don't know why the Baroness was resurrected, but it's happened. And we don't have time to figure it out right now." Shaman pointed down at the Fallen on the ground. "The Kell is somewhat stable, but he needs medical attention immediately." The Warlock removed his helmet, revealing his visored mechanical face. "Baroness Feniks, can you help?"

She glanced at the Titan, who faintly seethed with rage of his own, but lowered the Khvostov rifle. She tapped her dactyl on her gauntlet and then looked upward as she consulted the scan results. The scarlet glyphs that were thrown up on her HUD drew out a growl. "No," she told the Warlock. "The Kell's skiff has gone. Ketch is not responding. Likely stolen by Morsik."

Cayde nodded. "So the plan stands- we get the Kell to Variks at the Reef." He looked at Feniks. "Now, normally, a new Guardian would come to the Tower and meet with the Speaker, but..." He spread his hands. "...I think that might be a bad idea straight away." He turned to Shaman-9. "Shay, you take your team to the Reef, get the Kell the help he needs. And take the Baroness here with you. I'll get Hideo back to the City and report in. Soften the blow, as it were."

Feniks said nothing to this, but nodded. The City Folk would hardly appreciate the notion of one of her people being a Guardian. She knew that her own people would not like the idea either. The Reef Folk had not been kind to the Eliksni- the Wolves had served the Queen not out of choice, but out of fear and enslavement- but if there was any place she was likely to find her Kell the help he needed, it would be the Reef. Other Houses would only see weakness and try to slaughter them. "The Reef, yes," she agreed.

The Hunter Vanguard shook his head and made a sound of confusion. "A Fallen Guardian. Man, this is going to cause so many problems."

She became aware of a presence behind her. Turning, she saw another _Sha'ir_ , a Hunter, staring at her. Feniks had not heard her approach. Her helmet hidden under a scarlet cloak, but its multi-lensed faceplate held a level gaze upon her. A Black Spindle was slung across her back, but her hands gripped a pair of large knives. Feniks returned the Hunter's stare. The Hunter raised the point of her knife, tapping it against the edge of one lens, then aiming it at the Baroness. Then she made a cutting gesture at the throat, a plain threat and warning.


	6. Arguments

**CHAPTER 6: Arguments**

* * *

Executor Hideo sat in the cargo hold of the Hunter Vanguard's jumpship, double-checking his hand cannon worriedly. The Warlock Shaman-9 had escorted him here, while fighting off attacking Fallen, and once his safety had been seen to, the Guardian had set back out to regroup with Cayde and his fireteam. There had been a lot of energy fire and blades coming his way during that flight out of the disastrous parley meeting, and Hideo liked to think he had acquitted himself well. Shaman, however, had been a whirlwind of action, his own hand cannon firing in one hand, his sword flashing in the other.

Hideo had witnessed battles in the Crucible. He had even won quite a bit of glimmer in wagers against some of his rivals within the New Monarchy. He'd seen what Guardians were capable of, even recruited a significant number to the ranks of his faction. But seeing them fight on the screens in Crucible arenas, and seeing one fight in person, amid the fire, were two different things. It was terrifying, and awe-inspiring. Already, his politician's mind was composing a speech to give to speak of what he had seen, to stir up his followers and other Consensus representatives.

He stood up as Cayde-6 transmatted into the hold. Hideo often had problems deciphering the expressions of Exos, their metal faces moving in ways unique from their flesh-and-bone brethren humans and Awoken. Even so, he was certain he saw a pensive, troubled look on the Hunter Vanguard's face. "What's happened?"

"A whole lot," Cayde grunted. "We're at war with another Fallen House. And we might be down a Kell." He raised a hand when Hideo tried to speak. "Don't ask right now. We gotta get back to the Tower. I'll explain everything when we get there."

* * *

The Speaker's orrery spun overhead as the Vanguard and Faction Reps met once again. Zavala's face was grim. "So Kell Semakis was betrayed," he grumbled. "And this Baron Morsik has usurped his throne."

Cayde shook his head. "I got the impression from my Ghost's translation- which even I'll admit is probably not entirely accurate- that he's broken from the House of Gears completely. He was shouting something about anyone bowing to the Gears banner burning."

Ikora Rey glanced up from reports she'd gotten back from their scouts. "The Redjacks said the attackers were in Gears skiffs, so if you're right, then Morsik has pulled a lot of the House along with him."

Arach Jalaal shook his head. "The House of Gears were dangerous to deal with. Dead Orbit had to send teams into their territory to secure resources to build our fleet, and they would frequently deploy new technology against us." He folded his arms and drummed his fingers on his biceps. "They kept to themselves until now. Stayed out of the fighting with the City."

"We always knew they would have to be dealt with." Lakshmi-2 folded her hands behind her back. "The Future War Cult has a great deal of intelligence on their capabilities. We will make them available to you shortly."

Ikora gave her a nod. "I'll get the Hidden on tracking the break-away Gears as well. We should keep an eye on what's left of the other major Houses, try to keep him away from them."

"Good idea," Cayde agreed. "Last thing we want is Morsik deciding to pull a Skolas and unite them under one banner."

The Speaker had been silent throughout the Hunter Vanguard's report and the discussion thus far. Now the City's leader lifted his head and faced him. "What is the Kell's condition? Have we heard from Shaman-9's team?"

Cayde shook his head. "Not yet. Semakis looked to be in bad shape. Morsik hit him with his Hammer two really big times." He would not have been Cayde if he had not then added, "And in this case, the Hammer is _not_ a nickname for his-"

"Cayde!" Zavala's interruption was punctuated with a glare that could have melted steel. "Be professional, dammit!"

Without missing a beat, Cayde continued, "He was bleeding heavily and probably has some crushed bones. That Captain of his, Tethiks, hooked something up to his mask. Looked like an ether canister. Maybe it was medicated or something, because it helped stabilize him long enough for Shaman to get him out of there."

Hideo spoke now. He had little to say after the meeting was called. Talk had very quickly moved from the aborted parley and onto the betrayal. "For what it's worth, Kell Semakis seemed genuine in his desire for peace. Most of our talk had been through a Gears Baroness named Feniks, who translated for him. He had suggested it start as a ceasefire, since we had no reason to trust him with anything more just yet." He spread his hands. "I don't know if we'll get anywhere with him now. From what I understand of Fallen society, getting betrayed like this might see him lose whatever remaining influence he has within his House, much less other Houses. It's a sign of weakness."

The Speaker nodded. "Let us hope that he can recover, and reclaim his authority."

Cayde coughed. "There's one other thing I haven't mentioned about what happened at the meeting. Baroness Feniks was killed by Morsik when she defended Semakis." He took a deep breath, more to marshal his thoughts and steel himself for the impending outburst, rather than any need to fill a set of nonexistent lungs, and continued quickly, " _And-then-a-Ghost-came-in-and-brought-her-back-so-now-we-have-a-Fallen-Guardian._ "

Silence reigned over the meeting for several moments as all present processed what he had just told them. And then voices erupted into a chaotic mess of astonishment, bewilderment, and outrage. Cayde-6 looked at a point several inches above everyone's head, letting his gaze just stare outward past the orrery while he waited for the noise to die down. It was Lakshmi who finally quieted everyone when she put two fingers to her metal lips and made a piercing whistle that cut through the babble.

Everyone looked at her, then to Cayde, who stared instead at the head of the FWC. "How do you _do_ that? You don't even have lungs."

"Cayde!" Zavala cut in again. "Explain. How can a Fallen become a Guardian?"

The Hunter just scoffed and raised his hands. "Don't ask me. I haven't the foggiest. It's not as if any of us _really_ understand why any of us were chosen by our Ghosts. And the Ghosts, if _they_ even understand it, aren't telling us either." He glanced aside at his own Ghost. "No offense, buddy." His Ghost just wobbled as if shrugging.

"Where is the Baroness now?" The Speaker's voice was tight, clearly alarmed, but there was an undercurrent of something else there. Wonder, perhaps. Or hope.

"I sent her along to the Reef. Shaman's team is keeping an eye on her." Cayde shook his head. "I'll tell ya, she looked as surprised as any of us about it. But the real question is," he leaned against the railing around the orrery, letting his gaze sweep across them all in turn, "what do we do about this?"

The Arach opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and looked thoughtful, as did the Executor. Lakshmi's face was as unreadable as only an Exo's could be. Zavala and Ikora shared a look as well. The Speaker broke the silence. "If the Traveler's Light raised this Fallen Baroness, it must be for a reason. Perhaps it is to give the Fallen something they've been sorely needing."

Jalaal frowned at him. "And what would that be?"

"Hope. They have lost much, as a people. They have seen their leaders killed or taken from them. They need something to keep them going, to keep them from just backsliding further into hatred." The Speaker's masked eyes looked up into the holographic displays above the orrery, at the white shape marking the silent god for whom he spoke. "This may be the way to forge a lasting peace."

"Or she might become the nucleus of a new fight against the City," Lakshmi looked unabashed at her statement, even as the white-robed leader turned a reproachful glance on her. "Or if she doesn't, there are other Fallen who might do as well."

"This is all also ignoring the people _here_ ," Hideo interjected. "What this means for the Fallen is all well and good, but have any of you considered how the citizens are going to react when they find out that a Fallen has become one of the Risen?"

"There will be riots," Jalaal agreed.

"That's before the Guardians here at the Tower are taken into consideration," Zavala's lips pressed together tightly as he frowned. " _They'll_ probably riot, too, and a rioting Guardian can do a lot more damage."

Cayde sighed. It was stuff like this which made him regret taking that bet with Andal Brask. He hated politics, and much preferred just shooting problems that came up. He pinched the bridge of his horn as voices rose again in argument. He turned his back to leave, as was his style, but was stymied by the fact that the Speaker had closed the doors to his chambers and locked them, so they could conclude the discussion without outside interruption. Unfortunately, this meant that Cayde-6 could not just up and leave when he wanted.

He turned back to the orrery, where the argument was still on going, and then raised his fingers to his mouth. No whistle came out. He frowned at his fingers, felt the shape of his mouth, and sighed. He settled for shouting. "HEYYYYY!" They stopped and looked at him, and he turned again to Lakshmi. "Seriously, how do you _do_ that whistle thing? That's impossible."

Lakshmi just smiled. "Consider it one of the higher mysteries of the War Cult."

Cayde rolled his optics and addressed the council as a whole. "Look. Way it is, is the way it is. We can debate for days about why a Ghost resurrected a Fallen, and how people are going to react to this, but we don't have days. Baron Morsik is out there, probably consolidating his power base, maybe even recruiting more followers- oh, and probably spitting up ichor after Feniks wounded him- but we can't just sit around arguing. I saw the look in that old Fallen bastard's eye. That's a Fallen with some serious Dark-born hate in... whatever passes for a heart for them, I dunno. He's got an army, he's got materiel, and he's got a mad-on for the City."

He paused to let them consider this, and when they grudgingly acknowledged his point, he plunged on, "Now, hopefully, the Kell makes a recovery and can take back his throne. Meantime, whether or not Feniks gets accepted by either side here, I'm willing to bet she's got revenge in mind. Captain Hammer- er, _Baron_ Hammer," he corrected, wondering why he'd made that mistake, "killed her and nearly killed her Kell. She was highly placed in the House of Gears, and she knows their tech. We can use that."

Zavala and Ikora nodded. "Deal with the immediate threat. Morsik and his break-aways. Once they're out of the way, _then_ we can figure out what to do about a Fallen Guardian."

The Speaker turned to the Faction Reps. "Please, do _not_ reveal this to your people. The City has enjoyed a time of relative peace for the first time in years. We don't need a panic or worse. We will reconvene to discuss the matter at a later time. For now, let us go, and all pray and hope for Kell Semakis' recovery."


	7. Honor to the Fallen

**CHAPTER 7: Honor to the Fallen**  


* * *

The main hold of the Warlock's ship felt cramped to Feniks, but perhaps that was because both she and Semakis took up a lot of room in it. The Kell was laid on a cot which was too small for his massive frame, but she had moved a crate over so his legs at least were level. She checked the ether canister that Tethiks had applied before his departure and saw it was nearly empty. The sooner the machine-Guardian got them to the Reef, the better. In extremis, Eliksni could use spare ether canisters in this manner to stave off death when grievously injured, but it wasn't a common practice. An Eliksni who needed help from another in such a fashion was too weak, and if they were a superior? Well, a vacancy might just open up for promotion.

Feniks knew what custom and practice said she should do as she looked down at the unconscious Eliksni. A Kell that could not keep the loyalty of his supporters was unfit to lead. A betrayed Kell that survived the attack, but would not survive without assistance, did not get it. He was left to die and a new Kell would rise. Thus it had been, ever since the Fall had begun. The Eliksni needed strong leadership to survive in a cruel, uncaring universe. Not for the first time since she had been brought aboard the Warlock's ship, Feniks found her hand drifting down to the haft of her dagger. Semakis' breath came out for just a moment in a high wheeze, and her had dropped away from the blade. She looked away, feeling the shame knot her innards, and let her gaze instead take in what decor the ship offered.

Eliksni kept trophies, but it wasn't until they became Captains that they had a space to call there own in which to display it. She was somewhat gratified to see that the _Sha'ir_ were not unlike them in this respect. The machine-Warlock who owned this ship had a number of similar trophies adorning one wall of the space. Most of these appeared to be related to the _Lun_ , those Dark-spawned machine-demons that plagued Venus and Mars. The Vex, she remembered, was what they were called by the human-kin. The detached craniums of the various _Lun_ shells were all arranged on one wall, but her eye fell to a larger one that she knew to be from a shell known as a Gate Lord. Such Vex monsters were nigh-unbeatable. She had heard Draksis rant as such in one of the Winter Kell's infrequent confabulations with Semakis. The House of Winter had been at war with the Vex for what seemed an eternity.

Then Feniks straightened up as she saw something else hanging from the Warlock's trophy wall. A blue, fur-lined cape was displayed with an almost negligent lack of prominence in one corner. But there was stitched upon the banner a sigil she knew well. Like an inverted tree, its branches and lines converged toward the top into two vertical lines, forking below into jagged spikes. The Banner of Winter, lined in the silver cord as befitted the House's leader. This had been the cape of Draksis, Kell of Winter.

She felt the hot rage well up inside her again, as it had since she had been a whelp. The same anger every time news reached her that a high-ranking Eliksni had been killed. While her House had consolidated its grip on their continent, she had heard the tales of the _She'lot_ accumulating more high-profile assassinations than there had been since the Gap. It had started with her people, before the human-kin's attentions had gone elsewhere, to the foul Hive, the marching Cabal, or the demonic Vex. The names the _Sha'ir_ had crossed off their list was daunting. Sekrion. Atheon. Sardon. Omnigul. Crota. Sha'aull. The Flayers. Oryx. And those were just the ones outside her people, who had not been spared. Solkis. Riksis. Sepiks Prime. Aksor. Taniks. The Silent Fang. Skolas. And, of course, Draksis.

Feniks wondered why she felt so angry. Draksis had not been of her House. Had not been her Kell. And yet, Draksis had been the closest thing to an ally that her House had outside itself. There had been mutual respect between the House Kells, even occasionally trade between them. Semakis would pass along resources that the Gears had plundered from their lands. Draksis would send back ship parts that he had looted from human-kin convoys. The Kell of Kings had not exactly approved of the relationship between the two, preferring instead that the various Eliksni Houses remain in a state of hostility with one another, but had been unable to drive any wedge between Semakis and Draksis.

And now, here, Feniks saw proof at last of which of the _Sha'ir_ had been responsible for the Winter Kell's death. She glanced back at the sleeping form of her own Kell, and was grateful to see that he was unaware of the cape's presence. She walked over to the corner and touched the fabric with her dactyls, and then she heard the voice of the metal ball again.

 _-I sense you're upset about something, Feniks._

There was a faint shimmer of light as the little machine appeared beside her, turning its eye from her to the cape. "I'll admit, it's not easy for me to understand your thoughts," the Ghost said quietly. "I don't think that the Traveler ever expected one of us to choose an Eliksni to be our Guardian."

She looked at it now, and spoke in the human language. "You can read my mind?" Her voice was similarly quiet, but there was a growl in it, a faint warning, which the Ghost seemed not to notice.

"Every Ghost bonds with its Guardian," it told her. "Being able to touch your mind is a part of that process. Otherwise, the Guardians wouldn't be able to wield the Light the way they do. So, yes, we can read our Guardians' minds, to a degree." When she growled again, it shrank back slightly, its eye wide. "But that's all we do! And even that's harder for me! I'm still trying to learn your language. It's fascinating. At its core, it seems almost simplistic, but each word carries a lot of meaning, and contextually, that meaning is shaped."

It darted away as her hand lashed out to grab it, so she settled for snarling at it and pointing a finger. "Stay _out_ of my head. It is my place. My place and no others, yes?"

The Ghost kept its distance, but it looked away. "I am sorry. I did not mean to make you angry. We don't mean to cause anyone pain. The Traveler meant for us to help people, so they could protect others."

She huffed and looked back at the cape. "You did not make me angry, little ball. I was already angry."

The Ghost make an angry warbling noise, its facets twitching. But it let the casual insult pass and instead drifted closer, looking at the cape as well. "Did you know the Winter Kell?"

"Not well," Feniks admitted. "He was Kell of another House, and for a long time, I was just Vandal, and then Captain. I was not required for high-level discussions between he and my Kell." She sighed. "But when I became Baron, I was invited to some of their last discussions. Draksis was honorable in his dealings with House Gears, and so was my Kell in his dealings with House Winter. There was great anger in House Gears when news of Draksis' end reached us."

She glanced from her out-right eye as the metal ball looked from her toward the front of the ship, where the Warlock piloted it. "You're not going to fight him, are you?"

She rasped a chuckle. "I have not yet decided. Draksis' end calls for retribution, yes? But the Warlock is strong." She tapped a dactyl on the Gate Lord head. "Or he would not have killed a Gate Lord."

She turned her attention now toward the rest of the Warlock's things. There was another display, of sorts, but this did not have what seemed to be trophies. These seemed to be old things, scavenged from the wreckage of his people's worlds, she supposed. Some were baubles that called out to be shown off, but others were stained things of paper, bound in cracked leather. She carefully picked one up and hissed in annoyance at the mold-stench that came off of it. "Books?" she asked of the Ghost.

It bobbed as it followed her over. "He is a Warlock. The only people more fascinated with old books than Warlocks are the Cryptarchs, who know the ways of decrypting anything. Codes, languages, engrams, _anything._ " It looked from the book, which she returned to its place after failing to understand the strange symbols within, to her again. "I wonder what kind of Guardian you'll be."

She huffed at it, but it plowed on. "From what I've picked up from you- and the recollection of how you died the first time- you charge headlong into battle, so maybe you're a Titan." It circled her again, and she made a grabbing motion once more, and it darted out of the way. "But your House is known for seeking new things to build with, so maybe you're a Warlock in some way." She grabbed once more, and felt her dactyls close on it just briefly before it seemed to dissolve in her grasp and then reform higher in the air. "You're quick, though, and you pick your moments, which is the essence of how a Hunter behaves."

"I am not human-kin, little ball." She drew herself up. "I am Eliksni. I will find my own path, yes?"

It once more seemed to bristle at the phrase, before a voice called out from the cockpit. "We'll be arriving in the Reef's territory soon," the Warlock reported. "Be careful. The Reef isn't overly fond of your people since Skolas' rebellion. Variks should be clearing things up, but it's ultimately not his call."

Feniks replied, "I hear you, Guardian. I will not start a fight I cannot win. But I will not allow myself to be thrown in Elders' Prison."

The Warlock was quiet for a moment before he responded. "I do not blame you. But however it happened, you are a Guardian now. I, at least, will fight to protect one of our own."

She rattled her teeth and smiled beneath her mask. "Good, Guardian. Because there is much to discuss once we see to the Kell's care."


	8. A Tense Welcome

**CHAPTER 8: A Tense Welcome**

* * *

When Shaman-9 disembarked from his jumpship at the Vestian Outpost, he found a number of Awoken guards waiting for him. Standing in front of him was the Fallen known as Variks the Loyal, as well as the Exo's own teammates. Morgan's helmet was off, and so the scars crossing his face were on full display, especially as they stood out against his angry, flushed face. Shaman knew why; the Reef's guards had no doubt insisted that the Titan leave his weaponry on his ship. Yurei, however, still had her Black Spindle slung across her back, but any reasons as to why could be explained by the pale tattoos on her pale blue face: the hooked dagger-like swatches of the Queensguard.

Shaman nodded once, and made a show of raising his own hand cannon up before depositing it on his weapons rack beneath his sword. Then he walked back a few steps before re-emerging, carrying his further-modified cot, now serving as a makeshift stretcher for the injured Kell. The other end of the stretcher was being carried by Feniks. As they came down the ramp and onto the docks, the Reef guards all brought their weapons up from their hips, but they weren't pointing them yet. Variks gave a little teeth-rattle and clanked his staff against the deck plating.

"This is an... unexpected request," the former House of Judgment scribe said in the human tongue. "We were not expecting to have to treat a Kell." His gaze flicked to the Baroness. "Not expecting this at _all._ "

She snarled slightly, and barked something in the Eliksni language. Variks merely nodded. "Yes, yes, I have been called that, and worse." Then he moved with surprising speed for those who had met the old Fallen, his staff suddenly coming up and pressing up against the underside of her mask. "Very... _ironic_ to come from House Gears Baron. House Gears, who called for parley with human City, yes? How very similar to a House Judgment scribe who called for parley with Reef Folk." The older Fallen hissed. "Mind your tongue, Baron. _You_ came to _me_ for help."

His eyes flicked to look her over, taking a measure of her, then one of his spare hands pointed to Morgan. "Titan, you will take the stretcher from her." When the scarred human started to object, Variks continued, "Baron must remove her weapons before she can enter the Reef. And there is much for us to discuss besides."

Feniks growled in the Fallen tongue again, but Variks shook his head. "I know that no Fallen should be without a weapon. But the Reef Folk will not let any Fallen un-sworn to Royal Family carry weaponry." He still had his staff under her jaw and he nudged her further. "Baron will leave weapons behind, or Baron will not enter Reef."

She shook herself slightly, then nodded once. Variks removed his staff and turned to the Warlock. Shaman glanced back at this, then jerked his head at Morgan. Unhappily, the Titan came over and took the stretcher from her. Feniks glowered at them, but then spread all four hands, her own cape being thrown back as she took her swords from her hip and then laid them on the ramp of Shaman's ship. She unslung the rifle from her back and set this down beside them. She drew up her dagger, but then pointedly thrust it back in the sheath on her waist with a defiant look.

Variks drummed his fingers on his staff, but nodded. "You will accompany me and your Kell to our medics. They know how to treat Fallen. Treated Wolves before their rebellion. Now they see that Fallen captives stay healthy before they enter Prison of Elders." He looked up at Feniks, adding, "Your Kell will be healthy before we decide his fate."

Shaman spoke up. "That's not your decision. He is our responsibility."

" _Was_ your responsibility," Variks countered. "Again, _you_ came to _me_ , yes?" He eyed the Kell's armor. "Crumpled armor. Crushed ribs, internal ruptures likely. He will be lucky if he walks again. But we will see to his health." He looked to the Guardians and Baroness. "We go now. You will follow. Do not stray, or guards will kill you."

Morgan grunted as he started to help carry the Kell away. "They try that, I'll kill them back."

"No," Variks said simply. "They will not _try_."

* * *

Some time later, the Kell had been taken into the medical bay where the Reef treated Fallen patients. Variks assured them that the Royal Guards stationed in his room would see to his safety. He led them into a chamber which turned out to be something like his own quarters, though clearly not where he slept or rested. The sigil of the House of Judgment was painted on the wall, and a few computer screens adorned another. These were scrolling through images of other Fallen, with Fallen glyphs identifying them. There were stones arranged on a shelf, markings and glyphs carved into them.

Variks watched the Guardians file in and eyed Feniks in particular as she entered. "There is something more happening here, yes?" He closed the hatch behind them, and then reached up to one screen, swiping and tapping on it. There was an electronic whine, and then the old Fallen turned back to them. "We can speak free now. No one is listening."

Shaman-9 folded his hands behind his back. "When the Kell was attacked, Baroness Feniks here was... also a victim. She was also struck by Morsik. Knocked across the room by his hammer."

"Morsik, the Hammer," Variks growled. "I know of him. He and Skolas were of the same manner. Hateful. Violent." He turned his eyes to Feniks. "For someone struck by Morsik's Scorch Hammer, you look surprisingly... well."

"And that," Shaman agreed, "is the reason we asked for privacy." He turned to Feniks. "Baroness? Ask your Ghost to show itself."

Feniks rattled her teeth, then spoke, in the human tongue. "Little ball, where are you?"

There was a shimmer of light in the air as the rust red Ghost appeared, giving her a glare. "Please stop calling me that."

The effect of this sight caused Variks to go absolutely still. One metal hand went loose and his staff started to tumble, but he caught it with one of his flesh hands and shook himself. He moved with that same deceptive speed he'd shown at the dock, suddenly up close to the Ghost, one hand reaching out as if to grasp it, but he stopped as he found a dagger at his throat. He glanced to Feniks, who glared back. The Ghost, in any case, had darted out of his reach.

"The little ball is _mine_ ," she hissed. "And it would not like it if you tried to take it."

"This is true," the Ghost chirped. "And stop calling me that." It looked to the older Fallen. "Feniks is my Guardian."

Variks made a hiss of his own as he drew back from the dagger, which the Baroness put back in her sheath. "Fallen do not become Guardians," the scribe said, flatly. "We would _know_. Ever since the Fallen came to your system, we have waited for the Great Machine's last children to come to us. We have waited a very long time. But we are Fallen, yes? Why would Ghosts choose one now?" He thrust his staff's head at her again. "What makes you special?"

Feniks spread her hands. "I do not know. I was ready to enter Calm Lands. But Light called me back."

The old scribe stood back, dactyls drumming on his staff, making that familiar teeth-rattle sound again. "I understand now why you asked for privacy, yes?" Variks turned to the other Guardians. "A Fallen Guardian would cause problems. Petra would be aggravated. Do not want to think about what Prince Uldren would say."

The mention of the Queen's brother drew a reaction from Yurei. The sniper lifted her head sharply, and there was an intake of breath. Shaman saw this and turned to the scribe. "So it's true? The Prince is still alive?" When Variks nodded confirmation, the Exo followed up with, "And what of-"

"Queen is still missing. Presumed dead. But Petra still searches. No one knows what Prince is doing." Yurei stood back, nodding her gratitude, looking pensive. Variks made a dismissive shake of his head. "He is searching for something as well." With a tap of his staff on the deck, he pressed on. "But Reef Folk will not like having another Guardian here, especially a Fallen from a hostile House."

Feniks growled. "House Gears is not at war with Reef Folk," she pointed out.

"House Gears is not loyal to Reef," Variks countered. "Any House not loyal to Reef is treated as hostile. Too many bad memories from Reef Wars, from Wolf rebellion." He paced to the other side of the chamber. "Kell Semakis is safe, but once he is well, he will need to offer oaths. Non-aggression. Perhaps even bend knee if Prince Uldren presses matter."

The Baroness snarled again. Her Ghost spoke up this time. "I'm not sure that's wise. If Semakis pledges loyalty to Uldren or the Reef, it will undermine his authority even further. From what I understand of Eliksni society, it will make him appear that much weaker." The rust-red Ghost glanced from Variks to the others. "And his position is very tenuous right now as it is, needing medical attention."

"True." Variks drew himself up again. "Which is why House Gears needs strong leader now. A leader who faced the betrayer Morsik and lived. A leader that can lead loyal Gears into battle without fear."

Feniks grunted. "Semakis is my Kell," she said, stubbornly.

"Am I missing something?" Titan Morgan interrupted at this point. During the entire discussion, he had not taken his scarred glower off of the Baroness. He turned to Shaman and Variks. "I mean, I get it, Variks is saying the Baroness should go ahead and name herself Kell. So what's the problem? She can just let him call himself Kell again once he's healthy."

"We are Eliksni," Feniks snapped at him. "When one takes another's rank from them, the loser does not live. I was once Vandal. When I wanted to be Captain, I took my rank from Holkis."

Variks stood back, listening to a familiar tale among his people. He provided the next chapter. "Holkis tried to kill you." It was not a question. It was an assured statement of fact.

Feniks nodded to him. "I killed him back. I served as Captain while Semakis was still Baron. Chaksis the Cunning was Gears Kell. He was old and his cunning was leaving him. Gears Barons plotted to take his rank. Semakis killed Chaksis, became Gears Kell. Baron Parsiliks tried to stop him. I supported Semakis as Kell, so I opposed Parsiliks."

Variks nodded again, almost purring. This time Shaman-9 picked up the thread. "And he tried to kill you. And you killed him back."

Feniks nodded. "I had survived multiple attempts to kill me. Vandals. Rival Captains. Guardians. For killing Parsiliks, Semakis made me Baron."

Morgan made a low 'hmf' sound and folded his arms. "I think I get it now. To become Kell, you'd have to kill Semakis." There was a pause. "So what's the problem? Apart from the fact it meant we spent a lot of effort getting him here for nothing."

All eyes turned to Feniks. She said nothing. She looked at them, then at Variks, then looked away. Her Ghost glanced up at her, then said, "Semakis is her Kell. And I don't think she's ready to become Kell herself."

"She may not have a choice," Variks growled. "Semakis may not ever be fit to be Kell again. If strong Kell does not emerge, House Gears will fall into Morsik's hands."

Feniks looked up. "Lakonis. He is Baron. He supported Semakis. He can lead Gears while Semakis is ill." She turned to the Guardians. "I do not know if he survived ambush. We will need to find out."

"Lakonis, the Quiet," Variks turned to one of his computer banks and tapped his dactyls on its screen. An image of the Eliksni in question appeared there, with Fallen glyphs scrolling beside it. "A dangerous sniper. He will be difficult to track."

Shaman-9 turned to his team. "This is something. We should head back to Old Paris, see if we can pick up his trail."

Yurei made a ' _hff_ ' sound and gestured expansively. Her Ghost, its pale blue shell with silver markings gleaming, materialized beside her. "How do we know that Lakonis didn't get away on the Kell's Skiff? Tethiks left on it."

"I will come with you." Feniks stared defiantly at them. "If you come for him, he will treat you as enemies. You are Guardians. He will try to kill you. I do not want you to kill him yet. Lakonis knows me. And without me, you will not find him. I can track him, determine how he escaped."

Morgan looked unhappy, but Shaman spoke again. "She's right. If this Lakonis is still alive, and still loyal to the Kell's plan, we may need him. And no one knows the Gears' tech better than she would." The Warlock turned to her and gave a bow of his head. "You will accompany us, then."

"But if you turn on us," Morgan warned. "We will kill you."

Feniks purred, smiling beneath her mask. "If you try to kill me, I will kill you back."

Yurei made a sharp hiss, and drew her thumb across her throat. "No," her Ghost replied. "We will not _try._ "


	9. Grimoires I

**Chapter 9 - Grimoires I**

* * *

 **House of Gears  
"Their ingenuity is unique, their weapons deadly, their pride strong. Be cautious of them."**

The Fallen House of Gears have stood apart from their fellows in the long war with the City. Too weak yet to take part in the Battle of Six Fronts, too proud to follow the House of Devils at the Battle of Twilight Gap, they have therefore thrived where their brethren have suffered, with their leadership still intact.

The House of Gears are renowned for their technological prowess, and as such, their House can field more advanced mechanized units and devastating new weaponry. The majority of their strength seems to be focused around the Manhattan Exclusion Zone, pillaging the area's great technological and industrial center. Recently, the House of Gears underwent a schism, with more than half of its forces defecting to follow the break-away Morsik in his bid to resume conflicts with the City.

* * *

 **Manhattan Exclusion Zone**

Once it had been the heart of one of the greatest cities in any Age, a capital of commerce and a hub of information. In the Golden Age, its iconic skyline stretched toward the heavens even as its outskirts spread and grew. When the Collapse came, like so many of the other great cities, it was ravaged by fire and destruction. Following the City's formation, the ruins of Manhattan- and the greater city of which it was a part- were declared an exclusion zone.

The "Mez," as it is colloquially known now, is in great disrepair. Years of disuse and exposure to the elements have caused many of the skyscrapers to tumble and collapse, and subsidence means that even the streets are unstable. If this were not enough, in the last moments before the great city fell, its leadership sought to take the attacking forces with them, detonating terrible weapons in the city, aiming to deny the Fallen Houses the treasures of their technology. Even now, radiation has rendered great swaths of the ruins inaccessible. Despite this, the Fallen House of Gears remains camped around the perimeter, looting what they can.

* * *

 **Semakis, Gears Kell  
"Seeking peace is not weakness, but seeking war is not strength."**

In the wake of the Reef Wars, the House of Gears was in conflict. Their Kell, Chaksis, was growing old and his cunning was leaving him. Many of the Gears Barons moved to overthrow him, and it was Semakis who emerged victorious, edging out his onetime mentor, Morsik. The new Kell consolidated his House's power around the Manhattan Exclusion Zone, and purged out those malcontents who refused to bend their knee. Some left to join the Exiles on Luna. The rest met their end in the Gears' execution pits.

Semakis is unique among Fallen leadership in the Sol system, in that he has kept the House of Gears from diving into open conflict with the City, as the Devils and Wolves have done. This has caused strife within his House, leading to the present schism, as some of his Barons had advocated increased aggression. His recent push to try to establish a peace with the City finally pushed things into a civil war.

* * *

 **Feniks, the Risen**

Here's what we know of the Gears Baroness, Feniks.

She rose the ranks of the Fallen as many do. As a Dreg, she fought enemies that threatened her House to be raised to Vandal. As a Vandal, she led raids into hostile territory to capture treasures of technology, and killed the Captain who led her to claim his rank. As Captain, she continued her fearless tactics and showed strong resourcefulness. She survived attacks by ambitious Vandals who sought to take her place, and ambushes by rival Captains jealous of her rapid rise. She even survived multiple encounters with Guardians, something nearly unheard of among the Fallen. She threw her support behind Semakis' bid for Kellhood and killed the Gears Baron Parsiliks when he tried to betray Semakis. For this, the new Kell raised her to Baroness.

Now she's a central figure in this new Fallen civil war in the House of Gears. She loyally supports Semakis, and has been marked for death by Morsik for it. And now, on top of all that, she's been chosen by a Ghost to become one of the Risen. No one seems to know why, and it's only going to cause more problems once word gets out.

Ikora Rey's Hidden are working to find out more about her and her past, to see if this will shed some light on this mystery.

* * *

 **Ghost Fragment: Fallen 7**

Hear me, Eliksni. Hear me, children of a lost planet.

Listen to me, Gears-born. Listen to me, Whirlwind-scattered. Listen to me, those brought low by the assassins of the City of Thieves, the City of Murder, the City That Docks. Listen to me, Winter-born. Listen to me, be you broken Wolf, scattered Devil, or outcast Exile.

They name us Fallen, in mockery of our noble past, even as they preen in their Light and beneath the Great Machine they stole from us. We seek to reclaim our glory, and so they jealously guard it from us. When we try to rise back to our proud station, they kill our Archons, our Primes, our Kells. Three great Houses- the mightiest that survived the Whirlwind- are broken by their ghouls for daring to aspire to match their grandeur.

We know your pain. We have felt the sting of their bullets, the fire of their hate. We stood apart from you, but were we spared their fury? No, we were not. Our Skiffs have been attacked. Our people bombarded by the false machine-god called Ras-Puu-Tin which they fashioned and forgot. Our nests are driven below ground, away from the light and into shadow.

We know your pain, o children of the Whirlwind. They will never stop shooting their hate. They will never let us live in peace. We threaten their would-be supremacy. So long as a single Eliksni breathes, they will hunt us down out of pure spite. They will finish what the Whirlwind started, and drive us into oblivion.

Our lives have been pain since the Whirlwind sent us fleeing to the stars. Our lives have been pain since the vaunted House of Stone was broken in the wake of the theft of the Great Machine. Our lives have been pain since we came to this cursèd star.

If fate is to gift us nothing but pain, then pain shall be our weapon.

Pain has sharpened us. We are stronger for it. We dock our Dregs, that they might find their strength and earn the right to grow back what is lost to them. We test our followers, that they might keep their strength and avoid complacence. We test our leaders, that they might prove their strength to lead.

Pain has hardened us. Those who cannot find their strength wither, forever stunted without the ether to grow. Those who cannot keep their strength perish, unfit to become more than what they are. Those who cannot prove their strength die, unworthy to wear the cape and sword of authority.

House Gears has grown weak. Its Kell wilted under the pain that is life, and sought to beg the City of Curses to ease his suffering. When we objected, we were cast out. In this, their weakness was made plain. For our defiance, we should have been docked, or worse, for opposing the Kell.

They thought us too weak to strike back. They were wrong. We gave them a gift of pain. Now their Kell's weakness is exposed, and they are without leadership.

We say to you, Eliksni, of whatever banner you hide beneath, come to us. There is a place for you under our banner. A new banner. Our lives were once full of fear and spite and doom. But those who are Fallen shall rise once more. We know your ambitions, your aspirations. Ours is not a house of weakness. Ours is a house of strength. A House of Pain.

And to those sneaking Crows and crouching Hidden who will hear these words? Know this:

Our blades are sharp. Our eyes are clear. For every agony you have inflicted on us, you will know tenfold.

We will take back what you have stolen from us. And return to you naught but pain.


	10. Frank Discourse

**Chapter 10: Frank Discourse  
**

* * *

"Picking up a lot of Fallen traffic down there," Morgan reported as the fireteam's ships circled over Old Paris. "Skiffs are showing Gears colors- probably break-aways." He shared the satfeed data with the others, and Shaman-9 watched as Feniks leaned in to peer at the images. The skiffs indeed sported the copper-and-silver emblems and banners of the Baroness' house, and she growled in anger. "Any idea what they could be looking for here in the EDZ?"

"Tracking Lakonis," she said, promptly. "Morsik will want to know where his loyalties lie, and eliminate him if he still holds to my Kell."

"Same as us, then," Shaman nodded. "Let's try to avoid any protracted firefight, if we can. Feniks, what sort of firepower are we looking at?"

The Exo turned his visored face to her, and she regarded him back coolly from behind her own mask. She drew in a breath of ether and tapped her metal dactyls on the haft of her blades in thought. "Traitors will not have heavy ordinance to bear. Not after Walker was destroyed. Not many prepared to deploy to begin with." Tap tap tap. "Counter-snipers will be in force. Cloaked Vandals and mortar fire. We cannot be pinned in one place for too long, or they will rain fire on us."

"That goes without saying," Morgan grunted. "I can always throw up a Ward if need be to protect against shelling, but not forever."

Shaman watched as Feniks eyed the satfeeds, tapping controls and looking over a map of the ruined city. Her rust-red Ghost hovered nearby, observing. "If Lakonis is still in the city, where would he have gone?" the Warlock inquired.

"Too many places to say for certain," was her reply. "I am marking places we will need to secure. Deny traitors mortar positions, claim high ground. From there, I can scan for Lakonis' trail."

"Problem with that is," the Titan cut in, "the break-aways are probably in those same places, to try to find him. Don't get me wrong," he added, "I am always down to bust some Fallen skulls, but these bugs have had time to bunker down already, and may have already found him."

"No." Feniks shook her head. "I am monitoring their communications. There has been no mention of his capture, or his execution. Lakonis is expert at stealth and will not be found so easily. Even by House Gears technics."

Shaman nodded. "All right, team, let's get prepped." He designated a spot on the map. "We'll insert here. Transmat in ten."

He heard their acknowledgement and cut the comms before heading into his storage bay, considering his racks of weapons. He loaded his pouches with ammo and was reaching for his Lord High Fixer hand cannon when he became aware of a presence behind him. "Yes, Baroness? I get the impression you have something you want to discuss. Can it wait?"

The Eliksni growled. "No." He turned to find her aiming her rifle with both right arms, her metal hand helping stabilize it, while her left hands held a sword and... one of the trophies from his wall. She brandished the Banner of Winter. "You were the one to kill Draksis, the Winter Kell?"

Shaman sighed, and with deliberate care, set his gun to one side, keeping his hands in sight as he faced her once more. "I was. After Morgan was Risen, Yurei and I were tasked with helping him. Together, we came to Venus in search of secrets about the Vex. In my first life, I had been tasked with helping defend the Ishtar Collective, so it made sense for me to come along. However, during our mission, we ran afoul of House Winter." He shook his head. "I would have been happy if we'd simply kept it to skirmishing, but Morgan found out there was a significant bounty on Draksis' head. We couldn't talk him out of trying to collect."

He held his hands out with a questioning tilt of his head, and after a moment, Feniks handed him the tattered cape. He took it and held it up in front of him. "Afterward, I asked if I could keep the banner we took from his corpse. Yurei didn't want it, and Morgan would have just burned it. I felt that the cape of a Kell deserved something more than just casual disregard or outright destruction." Shaman lifted his visor to Feniks. "I regret that we had to leave another Fallen House without its primary leader, but at the same time, he and his House had been plaguing our own salvage crews for years. We needed the parts in those scrap fields as much as they did."

There was silence in the ship for a long moment. Then Feniks took the cape back from him as she lowered her rifle. "When we have finished, and when my Kell is recovered, you will tell him what you have told me." She rattled her teeth. "Semakis and Draksis were friends, and he will want to know what happened."

The Warlock nodded, and bowed from the waist. "If he desires it, Semakis can have the banner, so it may be given the respect it deserves."

Feniks took the banner back from him and inclined her head in a nod. She turned to return it to where it had hung. As she did so, she inquired, "Titan Morgan does not like Eliksni, yes?"

Shaman sighed. "No, he doesn't. I can't really blame him. In his first life, he saw many people and loved ones die when House Devils burned London to the ground." He reached up and tapped at his face in explanation. "That's when he got his scars."

Feniks leaned her head to the side. "And Hunter Yurei? She lost her voice to Eliksni?"

He shook his head. "No, she just doesn't talk. I've never gotten an explanation as to why." He spread his hands. "If she needs to do any lengthy discourse, she lets Edge, her Ghost, do it for her."

Shaman-9 finally shook his head. "We're wasting time. We need to get down there and find Lakonis before the break-aways do. Can you ask your Ghost to monitor the Fallen comm-frequencies? If we're lucky, we might be able to get one step ahead of them."

She nodded again. "Little ball, can you do this?" The rust red Ghost appeared beside her, its eye narrowed. "I can give you codes to access their communications."

"No need," her Ghost replied. "I can pull that data out of your tech easily enough." Off her own narrow-eyed glare, it added, "I'm bonded to you, remember? I had to bring you back, and as part of the process, I got access to your gear." For a moment, it somehow managed to look smug. "Even increased its processing efficiency for you. You're welcome."

The Warlock finished running checks on his fusion rifle, then checked the edge on his Dark Drinker. "Grab any ammo you think you'll need-" He paused, then glanced over. "Your rifle _will_ work with our ammo mags, won't it?"

She nodded as she sheathed her blade and then ran a few checks on her rifle, including giving its chainsaw bayonet a perfunctory rev. "Yes, yes, we have adapted to do so." She then picked up the shrapnel launcher that Semakis had used in the traitors' ambush at the Louvre. "I will be taking my Kell's Scrap Magnet, as well. It may be useful."

The Exo ran an eye along the visible modifications made to the shrapnel launcher. "I doubt anyone will object, as long as you don't use it on us." He considered a moment, and added, "I will see about giving you advice on wielding the Light as well, where I can. You're a Guardian, now, or at least one of the Risen. If we're to be fighting alongside one another, you'll want to know how to use it."

She regarded him coolly. "No doubt you will want to see how an Eliksni uses the Light as well." She growled. "We may be fighting alongside each other, Guardian, but we are not friends. I have fought your kind before, but this will be the first time anyone has fought an Eliksni like me."

His metal face twitched into a rueful smirk. "You see? Everyone's going to be learning something today."


	11. Firebrand

**Chapter 11: Firebrand  
**

* * *

"That's going to be a lot of Fallen to get through."

Morgan's statement summarized everything as the fireteam crouched atop a collapsed building, surveying the scene ahead of them. Two Skiffs hung in the air, adorned in the colors of House Gears, sweeping searchlights over the buildings. They could see some Pikes prowling the streets, and Shanks flitted between buildings as Dregs and Vandals threw things from windows. Seeing this, Shaman-9 glanced to the Baroness. "What are they doing?"

"Besides looking for Lakonis?" Feniks twitched her head from side to side, an Eliksni shrug. "Looting. Any material that could be reused, repurposed, or smelted down."

"You'd think they have enough stuff to loot back west," Morgan remarked. His helmet was off, his scarred eye squinted shut as he peered through the scope on his Khvostov.

"Never pass up chance when in new territory." The Eliksni tapped onto her gauntlet, and the glow of her ether-mask's optics shifted to a reddish hue. She zoomed in further herself, scanning the way ahead, then rattled her teeth. "Can barely detect Lakonis' signature. Will need to get closer."

Yurei shook her head silently at this notion. She signed extensively. Her pale blue-and-silver Ghost looked over before speaking in a feminine, accented voice. "Yurei thinks that's a bad call, and says we'll need to get to cover as it is. There are Fallen camping in at the top of some of those buildings."

Morgan and Feniks both sighted on the buildings the Awoken indicated. The Baroness snarled. "Mortars. Your Hunter is right. We need to get to cover before they spot us."

Shaman frowned. "They can't hit us from here, can they?"

"No, but Skiffs might, and Skiffs can raise comms. Call in further support." Feniks looked from building to building, then up at the Skiffs in speculation. "Guardian, I have an idea." She pointed to the nearest building. "If we can reach building roof there-" She paused as the location was suddenly flagged in her optics' HUD, and saw her rust red Ghost bob in the air beside her, "-we can turn weapons on traitors."

The three Guardians shared a look. Morgan's lip curled up in a smirk. "I like it. Can your mortars take out a Skiff?" When she nodded, the Titan grinned. "Let's do it, then. But we'll need to get to that mortar position without tipping off the others."

Yurei made a soft sound of amusement at that. Shaman chuckled slightly. "That's you out, then, Morgan." When the Titan gave him a look, the Exo went on, "No offense, but stealth has never been your strong suit." Seeing the man's glare, he added, "At least you're not as bad as Bolvan when it comes to going loud."

The scarred Titan grunted, signifying his conceding the point. "Don't suppose you have one of those stealth fields like the Silent Fang?" he asked Feniks. When she indicated no, he grimaced. "That might've been helpful. Too much to ask for. Okay. Eyeball?" His Ghost appeared, blinking at him. "You and the other Ghosts all stay patched in together. Yurei can provide overwatch." He unslung his Immobius. "I'll provide close-quarter cover for her."

Shaman nodded, then he and Feniks crept toward the building with the mortar encampment. As they walked, the Warlock addressed her via the comm-link their Ghosts established. "Feniks, when you felt the Light call you back, how did it feel? Physically, I mean." She shot him a look, and he shrugged. "I'm a Warlock, we are naturally curious and seek to better understand the Light. So, how did it feel?"

She mused on this for a while as they cautiously moved closer to the traitor Fallen's encampment. "There was... heat. I died angry. Angry at failing my Kell. Angry at Morsik for his betrayal. And I burned to do something about it." She paused for a moment, looking down at her flesh arms, flexing her dactyls thoughtfully. "It was like standing in sunlight at apex."

"Noonday sun." Shaman considered this. "You will probably find Solar Light comes more naturally to you than others." Off her perplexed look, he explained, "Every Guardian is capable of channeling all three elements of Light- Solar, Arc, and Void."

"Scorch, Shock, and Null, as the Eliksni call them," her rust red Ghost interjected.

The Exo nodded. "But one element comes more naturally than others, the second less so, and the third often requires one locate a strong source before being able to attune to it." He spread his hands. "I am a Sunsinger, I channel the Solar Light, but I can also tap into the Void, albeit less easily. I never underwent the rite of the Stormcaller, meditating upon a Martian Arc Storm as some of my Warlock brethren did, back during the Taken War."

He inclined his head to her. "You'll understand how it works soon enough. Your Ghost will help, just like Chakra did for me." His blue-and-gold Ghost bobbed in agreement. "The Light flows through you. It will come when you call."

Feniks turned her left eyes toward her own Ghost as it floated along beside her, and then regarded her right hands, dactyls flexing. Now the Warlock had called her attention to it, she could feel that heat flowing through her.

Her mind cast itself back to when she was freshly gifted her metal arms. The implantation surgery had been painful- the ether was too valuable a resource to waste it on things like anesthesia as humans would understand it- and like many Eliksni before her, the experience was intense enough to drive her briefly into unconsciousness. After her docking, she had thought nothing else would be so excruciating, only to realize her folly while the Gears Splicers had done their work.

She'd awakened to find her balance once again thrown off. There had been an all-too-brief readjustment period as she learned how to use her new limbs. Once this had passed, though, there had been a longing to use them. She had felt the power her metal arms possessed, and a phantom itch to use them in battle, as so many other vandals had done before her. She had felt the flow of energy through her arms' cables and actuators, and it had been a heady experience for a span of days.

This feeling, the non-painful burning of the Light mingling with her ether in her veins, brought that same "itch" to her dactyls. It was a powerful thing, she knew- every Eliksni knew, to their cost, how powerful a Guardian was- and it _wanted_ to be used. And so, as a result, _she_ wanted to use it.

 _Wait_ , she reminded herself. _The itch will be scratched. The Guardian says it will come when I call. Here and now, stealth is necessary._ Trying to throw around her newfound power recklessly would attract the traitors' attention. She snarled to herself and slung her rifle over her shoulder, her palms resting on the butt of her swords.

The two crouched behind cover as they approached the break-aways' area. Shaman-9 glanced back the way they'd come and made a querying gesture. Their comms crackled, and they heard Yurei's quiet breath as she sighted through her scope. Her Ghost's voice spoke. "Stay low. Out of sight. Pike patrolling nearby-" It's accented voice suddenly tightened. "Shanks! Heading in your direction!"

Feniks huffed and tapped at her gauntlet. "I can handle those." She was aware of the Exo watching her as she scanned the frequencies, and she purred as she found the break-aways' network. "Morsik's traitors have not changed their access codes." Her dactyls punched in a sequence of commands. "Fools, all of them." As the shanks started to sweep over their hiding place, she hissed in satisfaction. "The shanks belong to _me_ , now."

"Won't the local captains notice?" Shaman risked a glance, but the pike-rider was facing away from them.

Feniks shook her head. "Have not broken their programming. Still transmitting back to traitors' mesh, just... not telling them about us." Her amber eyes gleamed in her mask. "When time is right, they will help draw traitors' fire."

Morgan's voice broke in. "Handy. Don't suppose you can hack the rest of their network? Maybe sway a servitor over or something?"

"No," she said flatly. "Servitors are too advanced for that. Servitors do not take commands from Barons. Servitors obey the Prime, obey the Archon." She read the glyphs flickering by on her HUD. "No Servitors in area. More shanks. Mine now."

They heard the pike rumbling away, and crept forward again. The entrance at the base of the mortar camp's building was nominally guarded by a pair of dregs. In lieu of doing their actual duties, however, they were rummaging through the pile of junk that their fellows in the floors above had been throwing out of the windows. The interior crew had moved to the other side of the building by this point, so the rain of debris had ceased.

As they watched, Feniks and Shaman saw one of the dregs hold up an old piece of tech. It chattered excitedly, and the other dreg tried to take it from him. Soon they were wrestling over it, snarling and swinging at one another. The Baroness looked at her rust-red Ghost. "Hide yourself, little ball." As it cloaked itself, Feniks glanced at the Warlock. "I will distract them. You will flank them. Make your move and I will remove the other one."

He barely had a chance to ask what she was doing when she suddenly strode out from cover, marching toward the two dregs, one of whom had drawn a shock dagger and was brandishing it at the other. She barked at them in the Eliksni tongue. "What are you two miserable wretches doing!?" The sight of a ranking officer, cape billowing behind her, eyes burning with fury, drew both dregs to full attention, the one with the dagger dropping it in his haste. The other, still clutching his prize, swung it behind his back protectively.

"Wekis found something," the first babbled. "I just wanted to look at it."

"Filthy liar," the second, Wekis, snarled. "You wanted to take it for yourself, Kopisk!"

Kopisk snarled back and swept up his dagger, but Feniks growled warningly. They stood to attention again as she stalked closer. "You were set to guard the perimeter," she declared, shifting her tones to match those of a battle-master addressing a freshly docked troop of dregs. "Which means paying attention, not squabbling like a pair of overgrown whelps!"

They dropped their gazes, ashamed. Feniks finally inclined her head to one side. "What did you find, Wekis?" she asked, less harsh. "Hold it out. Let us see it."

Hesitantly, the dreg did so. The device he had found was vaguely spherical, about the size of a melon, with a broken support strut of some kind protruding from it. Its surface was spotted with lenses, of a glittering variety of sizes and gauges. Wekis held it out to Feniks, who did not reach out to take it. Awkwardly, the dreg filled the silence. "Looks like a holo-caster, yes? Captain Arniks was complaining his Skiff's map display keeps twinkling out."

Feniks nodded. "And in the hopes of currying favor, you hoped Arniks would overlook dereliction?" The dreg lowered the cracked device, his gaze dropping again. She went on, "What would you have done if the _Sha'ir_ turned up?"

This question brought Kopisk's gaze up, first just in surprise at his carelessness. But she saw his eyes narrow as he peered at her. With a snarl, he drew his pistol, aiming at her. "Wekis, don't you know who this is?!" When the other dreg looked blank, Kopisk spat, "It's Feniks, sworn to the weak coward of a Kell-"

He got no further. Hearing the hateful words coming from the dreg's mouth had caused the low-key smoldering rage that Feniks had been nursing ever since her revival to erupt. Her left flesh hand snapped out and grabbed him by the throat. She swept his weapons from his paws with her metal hands as she lifted him into the air, growling. "Coward?! My Kell knew the _She'lot_ had no reason to accept his offer of peace! He went to meet with them, knowing they might slaughter him on the spot! Seeking peace is _not_ weakness!"

Wekis jumped back, dropping his prize as he scrambled for his own weapons. Shaman-9 silently materialized behind him, wrapping one arm around the dreg's neck, the other raising a flame-infused palm warningly. The dreg, terrified, dropped his weapons, eyes flicking between Warlock and furious Baroness. The Exo nodded approval at the Fallen's decision, continuing to watch Feniks as she shook the other by the throat. Kopisk saw the Guardian and tried to growl, but the Eliksni holding him squeezed tighter.

"If Morsik wanted to challenge a weak Kell with anything like honor," she snarled, "he would not have struck him from behind. Who is the coward?! Those truly loyal to House Gears will not follow the Hammer because he is a craven oath-breaker!"

"Ours is a new House now," Kopisk sputtered past the choking grip on his throat. "Kell Morsik will kill you, consorting with the _Sha'ir_ like this!"

A rasping chuckle came from the Baroness at that. Her out-left eye glanced to one side and she twitched a nod. The two dregs gaped in surprise as the rust-red Ghost decloaked. As she held him aloft with one flesh hand, she raised the other. _It will come when you call_. She reached out and called to the Light, and at her will, Solar flames swirled around her dactyls. Rather than char her flesh, it felt like basking in sunlight at apex. Both dregs gaped once more at the twin impossibilities before them- a Ghost with an Eliksni, and an Eliksni clearly wielding the Light of the _Sha'ir_.

And Feniks exulted in it. Feeling the Light flowing through her, out of her, was indescribable. The phantom itch she had experienced was being soothed as the sunfire licked along her flesh, trickled through her veins. Her amber eyes glowed brighter as she turned her gaze from the wretched dreg in her grip to the fires in her palm. She spoke, softer now, but no less intense.

"Morsik killed me once," she purred. "But I alone among the Eliksni have been declared worthy of the Blessing!"

"Ghoul!" Kopisk hissed out, clutching desperately at her arm as she brought her flaming dactyls close.

"I live, I die, I live again," she continued. "I am remade in the Light, as we have dreamed for generations."

Kopisk squeaked as he felt the heat rise in the grip on his throat, unable to speak as those implacable eyes turned back to regard him with as much pity as one would have for a dust mite. Feniks' lips curled back as her voice turned harsh. "Morsik sought to continue warring with the _Sha'ir_ , even though our House lacked the numbers and might of the Devils and Wolves at their peak! He has sown the winds, and so he shall reap the Whirlwind!"

Kopisk could not scream as the sunfire bloomed hotter in her hand. The dreg's wire wraps and ragged tunic burned away as he thrashed helplessly. "You say I am a ghoul? Then let me be Adresiks Reborn! I will pursue the Hammer to the fringe of creation itself to pay him back what he is due! All those who betrayed the Gears banner will burn in the Light for their sins!"

The dreg's final agonized death rattle croaked out as the flames consumed him at last, leaving a few smoldering embers to crumple to the earth. Feniks relaxed her dactyls at last and, wreathed in sunfire, turned to Wekis, still held in Shaman-9's grip. But the Exo was staring at her in astonishment. He'd let his own fires dwindle back, sensing the awestruck terror in the other dreg would keep him from trying to escape. Though he tightened his grip at the back of his neck when Wekis flinched as Feniks raised a dactyl to point at him.

"You." A metal hand jabbed at the ground. "Down." The Warlock released the dreg, who immediately flung himself onto his belly, babbling incoherent pleas. "Cease your noises," she snapped, "and look at me." When he at last turned his shaking gaze to her, she continued, "You will not die today."

"Thank you!" Wekis burbled. "You are most merciful, o blessed one! I am your servant!"

"Yes," she declared imperiously, "you are. But you will not travel with me, wretch that you are." He lowered his head in shame, but listened on as she continued. "You will go back to the traitors you call kin. You will tell them. Tell them that retribution is coming. House Gears will endure, and there may yet be redemption for those who throw themselves on my Kell's mercy." He trembled as she growled, "But not for Morsik or those Captains and Barons who pledge fealty to him. There will be no mercy for them. I will see them _burn_ for what they've done."

The sunfire waned to the flames in her fists as she flung a hand aside, dismissively. "Go. Should you survive what comes, I will see you rewarded for your loyalty, Wekis."

The dreg staggered to his feet, hastily gathering his dagger and pistol. He looked briefly at the holo-caster, but decided to abandon it. Wekis scrambled around the mound of junk and disappeared into the ruins of the old city around them. When he was finally gone from view, Feniks exhaled slowly, the flames finally dying out. Her rust-red Ghost looked at her. " _Very_ impressive," it said. "You really put the fear in him."

Shaman-9 nodded as he joined her. "That you did," he agreed. "Though I only understood about every fifth word of what was being said. But sending him back to the break-aways to strike the fear in them like that? You're a regular firebrand, Baroness."

Feniks raised her hand and looked over it, fancying she could still see the sunfire glowing through it. "Yesss," she hissed. "That is what I am indeed." Off his blank look, she said, "You are Sunsinger, Warlock. I am Firebrand, stoking the fires of righteous revolt."

He chuckled a bit. "I like it." As they moved into the building at last, he inquired, "I caught something there I'm curious of. Who is Adresiks?"

"Eliksni legend," she replied. "Scribes tell of her from ancient times. Adresiks the Inescapable. Bringer of punishment. A nemesis, yes?" Feniks' eyes glowed in the shadows of the building. "That is what I am to traitorous Morsik. Nemesis. Pursuer. He will not escape justice."

Shaman nodded gravely. "Spoken like a true Guardian."

* * *

 **Afterword:** Apologies about the delay between chapters there. I kept struggling with how to approach it. It didn't help that I've been a lot busier at work than expected, which cut into my writing time. But I used some of the time to jot down ideas about how the Light would manifest for Feniks. As an Eliksni, it won't take the same forms for her as it would for mankind's Guardians. She is not a Titan or a Hunter or a Warlock, but something unique. I may or may not have drawn some inspiration for things from some of the _Destiny 2_ reveals, but these will become apparent in future chapters.


	12. Surgery

**Chapter 12: Surgery** **  
**

* * *

The ketch hung in the air over the ruins of a once-great city, casting much of it into shadow. Skiffs came and went as captains went about their business. On the outside of the ketch, vandals and dregs worked alongside flitting automata as they burned away the banners and colors of their former House. As this was done, others came behind them, staining the plating and armor with pitch. As one, they paused in their work as the bulkheads shook beneath them, the muffled roars of their new Kell bringing a tremble to their movements. When it passed, they bent back to their work with renewed haste.

Since the crisis of the False Ether, the Splicers of every surviving House had come under increased scrutiny. There had been apostates who had broken with their sect, with their House, to seek the blasphemous transcendence that the Devil Splicers had found. These had all met their end in the Plaguelands, either executed by mistrustful Devils, slaughtered by the _Sha'ir_ , or consumed utterly by the cursed miracle tech they had coveted so. The Splicers that had lately served the House of Gears had largely stayed true to their brethren, although not to their former Kell.

Truthfully, the surviving Houses could not readily cast out their Splicers, regardless of suspicions pertaining to their loyalty. While they viewed technology with an increased reverence that unnerved some of their fellows, the Splicers served a vital purpose in Eliksni society. They were the surgeons and doctors of their race, having more medical knowledge than those outside their order, and possessing the knowing of how to replace injured flesh with machinery. The Splicers therefore played a crucial role in every Eliksni youth's transition from whelp to dreg, supervising the ritual docking. And again, later, if a dreg earned the right to become a vandal, the Splicers were again there to help implant the new cybernetic limbs.

Deep within the ketch, the Splicers pitilessly continued their work. Tools and instruments dug into flesh, cauterizing it, sterilizing it. The Overseer bent forward, and the Splicers stood back to let him inspect their work. With a nod, he stepped back, bringing himself into the line of sight of the patient, his limbs all securely bound in place, arms splayed outward. Ether hissed through the abbreviated mask he wore here, in the Splicers' chapel. His eyes were open, glowing harshly through the pain of the procedure.

"Nearly ready, my Kell," the Overseer informed him. "Soon we will be ready for implantation." He paused, leaning on his staff of office as he bent down to whisper, "You needn't suffer so, your grace. Say the word, and medicated ether will be brought to-"

"No!" Morsik's interruption was sharp, harsh, and the walls rattled with the force of it. "That way lies weakness. The old ways, of our old House. And we are a new House, yes?" His growl demanded a response, and both the Splicers and their Overseer straightened up, feet ringing on the deck.

"Ours is a house of strength!" they chorused.

"I will endure this pain," the Kell of a new House growled. "It will fuel me, it will drive me, and it will be repaid, ten times over, upon all those who inflicted it." He drew in another lungful of ether, all four of his hands gripping tightly to the handles of the frame from which he was suspended.

Following the ambush in the ruined city, Morsik had managed to escape to his personal skiff, though it had been a near thing. The _Sha'ir_ , he knew, had been within moments of annihilating him. But it had been worth it. The fool Semakis had been mortally wounded, leaving his weakness laid bare for all to see. Any that remained loyal to him would see how unfit he was to rule. And even if the wretch survived, Morsik had denied him that jumped-up Baroness as a supporter. Even now, in his present state, the thought of Semakis awakening to find that Feniks was dead brought a smile to the Hammer's face.

Thinking of the blasted Baroness brought Morsik back to the here-and-now. Fresh spasms of pain wracked his body, and he bellowed out another roar of agony. Seething and sucking in more ether, Morsik cursed his overconfidence. He had failed to consider that the _She'lot_ would have had snipers on hand to protect their emissary, and allowed himself to be distracted. And that had been all the opening that Feniks had needed to cripple him with her accursed Sawblade Swordbow. A part of the Hammer regretted that she had been killed so easily; she had deserved a far worse fate for everything.

The skiff had ferried the Baron-turned-Kell back to the lands his new House was even now taking from House Gears by force. There, he'd been brought aboard the ketch he'd claimed before setting out, where he'd been brought immediately to the Splicers' chapel. The Overseer had taken one look and immediately called for emergency surgery and implantation. The timing had been razor thin. If the new Kell had arrived any later, there might not have been a chance of saving him at all.

The Kell finally nodded his readiness and so the Overseer beckoned a pair of automata drifted closer, carrying a segmented piece of technics, which writhed and undulated like a millipede. This was conveyed behind Morsik, and the Overseer handed his staff to an underling as he reached out to take the twitching technic wonder. On either side of him, the Splicers pushed the lacerated flesh together.

"There will be pain," the Overseer declared, "but this is transcension! As weakened flesh gives way for glorious technics!" His voice boomed in the chamber, and around the chapel, other Splicers paused in their work, turning and kneeling, raising their metal limbs in worship. The Overseer continued, "Feel your mortal form become one with holy metal! Ever closer to the Apotheosis!"

The Splicers on either side of the Overseer raised their voices with the response. "Ever closer to the Great Machine!"

Throughout the chapel, the Splicers began chanting, a low ululating sound as the Overseer held the technic implant overhead, then reverently laid it down the length of Morsik's spine. The Kell of a new House felt it slither, its multitudinous legs prickling across his flesh. He gripped the frame's handles tighter, and an automaton flitted close, pressing a control on the abbreviated ether mask he wore here. A leather strap snapped out for him to bite into, and he hurriedly did so as he felt those spiky legs dig in, from bottom to top, in a rippling motion. A metallic susurration reached his ears as the technic device burrowed against his flesh. Then came the pinch at the base of his neck.

With that, a series of metal rods and spikes thrust into his spinal column. Morsik clamped down on the strap in his mouth, but even so, his scream of fresh pain shook the chapel. In response, the splicers raised their own chanting to drown him out. The cybernetic spine knitted his injury together with painful lancing motions, while its wires and spikes pitilessly bored into his spine, linking themselves into his nervous system. Morsik's head was filled with static and distorted, indecipherable sound, as his mind tried to process the new data being fed into it.

Many vandals and their betters had undergone further surgeries besides the grafting of their new arms. The rituals varied slightly, but they were otherwise very similar. But in most every case, the Eliksni undergoing the procedure was being fed medicated ether. This wonder, which was produced in very small batches by the servitors, encouraged Eliksni physiology to repair itself. Since it required great quantities to actually achieve rapid healing, it was more frequently used for its secondary purpose, that of general anesthetic and painkiller. In these lean times, though, there was little medicated ether to hand, and so surgeries were often performed without it.

Morsik the Hammer was the first to voluntarily refuse it, as far as the Overseer was aware. He stood back as his Kell shook in the frame, his body twitching and spasming as the technic spine assimilated itself into his nervous system. He turned an eye to a readout, monitoring stress levels and other important indicators. At last the patient slumped, dactyls relaxing, but the frame held firm, still bound at the wrists and ankles. The Overseer ran a dactyl along the readouts, and nodded. Another pair of automata came close, each carrying another segmented piece of technics, but these were flat, with slight curves to their appearance. One edge of each glittered with connectors and lights and wires.

Reclaiming his staff of office, the Overseer bid the Splicers who had been holding the Kell in place to step aside. They did so, and at his gesture, they each took one of the technic pieces. As the Overseer raised his staff overhead, beginning the chant anew, the two disciples lowered their burdens onto the Kell's back, on either side of the spinal implant. As one, they slid the panels toward the implant, until it unfolded its segments and clamped onto the new metal, drawing it close. Connectors socketed into place, and the panels shifted, their plates sliding against one another, as if flexing muscles beneath. Hooks at the panels' corners snapped down and embedded themselves into Morsik's flesh, sealing the new armor against his body.

He was still breathing heavily, spent ether steaming from vents in the sides of his mask. His eyes slowly reopened as he regained awareness. The pain had been excruciating, and his world had gone dark while it ravaged his nerves. At last, the Overseer moved around before him again, and he raised his staff of office, pressing one end to each of the cuffs that held Morsik's ankles, releasing them. One foot landed heavily on the deck, and then the other. His metal limbs were freed from their bonds, and he slowly swung down from the frame which had suspended him. He tested his weight, straightening up slowly, feeling the new cybernetic spine and the segmented armor plates shifting on his back as he stood upright.

The abbreviated patient's mask was removed from his face, and his personal mask was returned to him. He affixed this over his blunt snout, feeling the seals hiss as it secured itself. He drew in a lungful of ether from the mask's small reservoirs, and removed his flesh arms from the frame. He took one step, then another, and then another as he grew more confident that his gait would not falter. Seeing their Kell striding forward, the Splicers all raised their hands to the skies and chanted, "What was rent, now is whole! What was flesh, now is steel! Ever closer to the Great Machine!"

A passel of dregs was waiting for him as he emerged into the chapel's antechamber. They carried his armor and the accoutrements of his office. He raised his arms as they fastened his armor onto his body, connecting his ether tanks to his mask. The black banner of his new House was swept onto his shoulders, and at the last, a newly raised Baron stepped forward, presenting him with his iconic weapon. As Morsik grasped it, the Baron spoke. "All of our people await you, Kell Morsik."

He nodded and with Baron and dregs following, he strode confidently through the halls of the great ketch. As he passed, Eliksni stopped their duties and clapped fists over their chests, standing in salute. Finally, he emerged on the external boarding deck, striding to the railing and looking out over the ruins of the _She'lot_ city that had once belonged to House Gears, before his new House had taken it from them. Dozens of skiffs hung over the city, and rooftops and balconies and streets teemed with the Eliksni of his new House.

New automata hovered close by, fitted with cameras, which then broadcast their images to holocaster-fitted automata, which displayed on the side of the ketch. When the gathered throngs saw him, they raised their voices in howls and whooping cheers. Slowly, a chant began somewhere below, gradually picked up by the rest, until the towers of the _She'lot_ ruins shook with the solitary word.

 _"KELL! KELL! KELL! KELL!"_

Morsik raised his namesake hammer in one metal fist, raising his upper hands in acknowledgment of his people. The noise and chant grew louder, until his voice boomed out over the ruins. The camera-automata picked up his words along with his image, and speakers on the outside of the ketch projected his voice.

"Hear me, Eliksni! Hear me, children of a lost planet! Listen to me, Gears-born. Listen to me, Whirlwind-scattered. Listen to me, those brought low by the assassins of the City of Thieves, the City of Murder, the City That Docks..."

* * *

Hundreds of millions of kilometers away, a different surgery was going on. Where the treacherous Morsik had been hanging from a frame that in turn hung from the ceiling, Semakis lay face down in a stasis field. Standing around the field were three Awoken, wearing tight hoods to keep their hair back and out of the way. One wore a set of goggles as she manipulated a set of delicate, articulated robotic arms which reached into the field to do the work. A second monitored the Kell's vital signs on a display, sending information to the third, who quietly directed the actions of everyone. With them were a pair of Eliksni, one similarly working a pair of manipulator arms, the other standing beside the Awoken surgeon, likewise providing guidance and direction. The two Fallen wore colors of faded blue, signifying their former allegiance to the House of Wolves, along with marks indicating they were Splicers, but these were adorned with stripes of green and purple, signifying that they had been vetted by the House of Judgment and the Queen's Wrath.

And because the Reef would never forget the Wolves' betrayal, however much they redeemed themselves, four Royal Guards stood in each corner of the room, with another pair standing outside.

In an adjoining room, Variks the Loyal leaned on his staff as he watched through the window. From his vantage point, he could see the screen showing the Kell's vital signs. Semakis was stable. Weak, but stable. Variks rattled his teeth quietly as he turned from the window to regard the Kell's belongings, which had been brought to him by request. This included the ruined armor which had been cut away from his body, and the old scribe ran a dactyl along the crumpled inner surface of the plating. It was obvious just how much damage Morsik's infamous Scorch Hammer had done with the furious blows the traitor had dealt. The pointed head of the maul had rendered the notoriously durable armor of a Kell as vulnerable as glass, driving shards of the ablative metal into his chest.

That would have been bad enough. But with one side of the armor crushed inward, it would have been far less of an issue than it was, but Morsik had crushed from both directions. The blow to the chest had broken ribs and damaged internals, even rupturing several vital organs, such as the one that Eliksni used to process the ether. The blow to the spine had caused serious nerve damage and cracked vertebrae. The hammer blows had also delivered searing heat into the wounds, partially cauterizing them, making it that much more difficult for the surgeons to repair the damage.

Also on the table were the Kell's swords, the symbols of his authority. The hand-guards had the sigil of House Gears stamped into them- a broken circle with a vertical line extending up into a spoked, gear-like emblem. There was his dagger, the one weapon that all Eliksni carried regardless of rank, adorned with markings of personal significance to Semakis himself. A worn but well cared for shock pistol. And finally, the copper banner of House Gears, with the House sigil sewn on in silver, with the extra flairs that let it be known to all Eliksni that saw them that this was the personal cape of the Kell.

Variks considered the items on the table. Finally he signaled to a nearby dreg, who like the Splicers in the surgical bay wore the faded blue with green and purple stripes of a once-Wolf. "Take these along to my chambers. I will look after them until Semakis' recovery." He thought for a moment. "And find our armorer. Kell Semakis will require a new set, yes?" The dreg bowed his head in understanding as it carefully gathered up swords, dagger, pistol, and banner, then hurried out of the room.

The old scribe had just turned back to observing the painstaking work the surgeons were doing when his comm crackled. "Scribe Variks," came the stilted voice of Mura 99-40, the frame who monitored his comm-traffic, "you have three new messages awaiting your attention." There was a brief pause, before the frame continued, "Message one is from Crow codename Corvus Three. Message two is from Lady Petra Venj. Message three is from Crow codename Magpie Six."

With a sigh, Variks straightened up and headed out into the halls. "Yes, yes, I am coming." There was little he could do to hasten the Gears Kell's recovery. There was work to be done, in any case.


	13. Hand of Justice

**Chapter 13: Hand of Justice  
**

* * *

Shaman-9 was grateful that their infiltration of the building was uneventful after the encounter with the dregs outside. Most of the Fallen in the structure had congregated either in the street outside or on the roof, giving them a clear run through the wrecked offices and residences that had once occupied the building. As a Warlock, part of him wanted to stop and peruse the area, and have his Ghost scan the old computer banks that the Fallen had neglected, or search for the shells of dead Ghosts. But now wasn't the time, and he could sense Feniks' impatience. The Eliksni Firebrand wanted to punish these traitors to her House, though she did, at least, recognize the dangers in trying to bring too much attention to themselves before they were ready.

As they came up the stairs, one floor below the roof, their comm crackled. "Shay," Morgan's voice broke in, "we just made contact with the Redjacks. They're finished clean-up with the break-aways on the other side of the city. They're en route to provide support."

"That's good news," Shaman agreed. "They might be able to draw fire until we can take out the mortar positions." He indicated for Feniks to wait, then asked, "Can you tell what kind of resistance we'll get upstairs?"

The accented feminine voice of Yurei's Ghost broke in. "One Captain, five Vandals. Can't get a good count on the dregs. And a lot of Shanks flying all over the place."

Feniks nodded. "Shanks belong to me," she reminded them. "At my command, they will attack whoever I say."

"How long until the Redjacks get here?" Shaman asked.

Morgan paused before answering, "Five minutes."

The Warlock nodded and consulted his load out. "Okay, Chakra?" His Ghost, resplendent in its gold-and-blue shell, shimmered into view beside him. "Link up with the other Ghosts. Let's try to tag as many of the hostiles in the area as we can before we kick this off." He looked over to see Fenik's rust-red Ghost appear, and it bobbed its agreement. Both Ghosts cloaked themselves as they flitted out of the shattered windows. After a few moments, icons flickered into view on their HUDs, highlighting enemy forces.

"Morgan," Shaman continued strategizing, "when the Redjacks get here, and once Feniks sets the Shanks loose, book it over here and help pincer the Fallen in. Yurei, snipe as many as you can, but when you can't get clear shots, get close. We could use your Arc Blade." Yurei's Ghost transmitted her acknowledgment, and the Warlock drew out his hand cannon. "All right. Everyone make sure your weapons are loaded and ready. I get the impression these break-aways are going to give us a hell of a fight. Morgan, tell the Redjacks we'll move on their go."

He broke communication and popped the cartridge on his Lord High Fixer, checking the clip. He snapped it back in and did the same with his fusion rifle, the Darkblade's Spite. As he last checked the edge on his Dark Drinker, he could see Feniks going through a similar routine with her own weapons. She started with her swords, running metal dactyls along the edges, verifying their sharpness. She drew out her rifle next, checking its breech, its clip, and its bayonet, though she didn't spin it up.

"An interesting weapon, that one," the Exo remarked. "Did you make the modifications yourself?"

"Yes, yes," the Eliksni confirmed. "All Eliksni of House Gears are expected to customize their weapons when they become Captains. I started early. Began making shock rifle my own while I was still Vandal. Getting more power from less energy. Greater range too. Not as much as wire rifle, though." She patted the flat of her chainsaw bayonet. "Last addition was saw. Makes weapon useful tool in a pinch. Many who opposed my elevation to Baroness thought twice about challenging me." She drew herself up proudly. "Kell Semakis calls it the Sawtooth Swordbow."

"A fitting name," Shaman agreed. He nodded to the shrapnel launcher. "What about that one?"

"Scrap Magnet. Captain Tethiks' custom." She indicated a toggle switch. "This adjusts the magneto coils within. Shards within are magnetized together in one lump. Launch and short time later, magnet field reverts, shards are propelled out from each other."

Shaman nodded. "When all this is over, and the House of Gears and the City have managed to hash out a proper alliance, your people might find work with the factories and gunsmiths. Omolon and Tex Mechanica and all the rest are always on the lookout for competent engineers."

"Fireteam Wonder Nought," the feminine voice broke in over the comms, "this is Dahlia 99-40 with Redjack squadron Zero-One. We are ready to assist."

Both Warlock and Firebrand straightened up. "We read you, Dahlia. This is Warlock Shaman-9. You made good time. My team is ready to move on the Fallen's mortar placements. Our Hunter is ready to snipe, our Titan ready to move in. I'm standing by with an asset, and we'll strike the mortar camp above us once you have their attention. Try to leave any Fallen tech intact. We're tracking a Baron in the area, and that tech might come in handy. We'll move on your go."

"Copy, Shaman-9." Dahlia 99-40's voice was crisp, professional. "We will engage in sixty seconds."

Feniks slung the Scrap Magnet back across her back, laying her rifle across her legs as she settled down, raising her gauntlet. "Tapping into traitors' mesh. Shanks are standing by. I will direct their efforts, but it is likely traitors will track my signal."

Shaman flipped his sword into a reverse-grip, bracing his hand cannon across his wrist. "Let them come."

* * *

Arniks growled as he stalked on the roof of the old _She'lot_ ruin. His new Kell had dispatched him and a veritable battalion of their forces here for two purposes. First to track down Lakonis, that old hunter of treasures and victims, so he could be dragged back before Morsik and declare his allegiance. Arniks knew that Morsik hoped to bring the old Baron under their new banner, to further drive House Gears into disarray and despair, but he personally suspected that Lakonis would proclaim his loyalty to the old banner, and face the Hammer's wrath for it. It made little difference to Arniks. Once he returned to their new House's stronghold, he would be raised to the Barony.

His other reason for being here in this ruined city was to establish a beachhead here on this continent, from which they could push further east, toward the lands that the City That Docks claimed as its dominion. The new Kell wanted to apply pressure on the Damned City, to return to them the pain that had been visited on all Eliksni since they came to this wretched system. That there was also, in the lands to the east, a shard of the Great Machine, as well as a vast farm that fed the City, was an additional reason to dig in here. Two very key targets, those.

But Arniks was not happy with this mission thus far. Lakonis had evaded their sweeps, and it had already been confirmed that he had not been able to escape the ruins here following Morsik's ambush of the parley. The longer it went on, the more likely it would be that Lakonis could start picking off his troops. The old Baron was the best sniper the Eliksni had produced in ages, and an expert in camouflage besides. Giving Lakonis any time to plan ambushes of his own was a major problem.

Complicating matters was the fact that the foul Hive lurked in the tunnels and catacombs beneath this city. Arniks had hoped to be able to use these to circumnavigate areas that Lakonis could camp out, to outflank him and draw the noose around his neck. Instead, he'd lost some good squads to the Hive's Knights and witches, or brought down under a tide of thrall. Shelling the tunnel entrances with his mortars had driven the monsters back underground, but he didn't like knowing they were waiting there. He'd already made mental notes to request more manpower and technics to respond to this threat, once they were done dealing with Lakonis.

Arniks looked across the cityscape to the twisted tower of metal framework that dominated the skyline. The _She'lot_ had clearly meant it to be some manner of monument or similar, though the Eliksni assault that had happened more than a century before had warped it and damaged it. Even so, it still stood, and Arniks was already planning to establish their permanent base of operations there. It was more centrally-located and he'd be able to direct things better. He finally brought himself out of his reverie and flicked into the comm-mesh. "Have our scouts reported back yet?"

"Not yet, Captain," one of his Vandals replied. "But the Quiet Baron can't hide forever. We'll find him."

Arniks doubted that. But he'd settle for knowing a general area, so he could bombard it with mortar fire. He turned his attention down to his shock rifle, double-checking the modifications he had made. His last attempt at modding a rifle had nearly electrocuted his entire Skiff. He had just jimmied open a panel on the side when gunfire erupted around him. He whirled, snapping the panel shut and raising his rifle as he teleported closer to the roof's edge. Below, his forces were exchanging fire with what looked like machine-men. He snarled, recognizing from rumors the red-jacketed machine-men that served the Damned City, who would be sent in lieu of their ghoulish _Sha'ir_ to purge an area of hostile forces.

"Spool up the mortars!" he bellowed as he turned back to the dregs and vandals with him on the roof. As they mobilized to do so, he became aware of an angry beeping noise. He looked around to see the Shanks patrolling the airspace suddenly swivel to face him. His eyes went wide as they all started opening fire. The first few shots scattered off of his personal shield, but he saw a pair of dregs go down in the surprise attack. "Someone's hacked our Shanks!" Righteous fury filled him, and he drew his pistol to shoot the nearest one out of the air, feeling like he was putting down a rabid animal. "Shoot them down while I track who's controlling them!"

But he already had a suspicion who it was. He realized in the moment that their tactical mesh had been too open, that he'd neglected to change their codes after breaking away from House Gears. Which meant it could only be a member of House Gears that had hacked their Shanks. Which, in turn, meant it could only be Lakonis himself, turning the hunting pack against its masters. Only a Baron, after all, could have overridden his commands.

It still took him a minute to back-trace the intruding signal in the tac-mesh. When he followed the signal strength and orientation, he howled in fury. The devious bastard was right under his feet, just one floor below him! He shot another Shank out of the sky and called to the surviving dregs and vandals on the roof. "He's downstairs! Go get him!" As they hurried off, Arniks turned his comm wider. "To all forces, shoot any Shanks that attack you out of the air! Once you're clear, begin shelling the machine-men!" He winced as he felt a Shank's attack burst against his shields, and adjusted their setting, shifting the energy from shock to null. That would hold off any Shank fire a little longer while he got the mortar prepped.

* * *

The break-away forces charged down the stairs and were met with a series of steady, practiced shots from Shaman's hand cannon. The first Vandal's head exploded into ichor and ether, and the dregs behind him howled in shock and fury. He hurled a Flare Grenade into the stairwell, keeping them back so he could carry on picking them off with impunity. He paused to reload, and then the first shock grenade was thrown toward him. He sliced it out of the air with his sword, and then had to drop back as they poured through the doorway. A Vandal closed with him and their swords clashed.

Satisfied that the break-aways would be kept occupied by her hacked Shanks, Feniks rose to her feet, and gave the Sawtooth Swordbow's bayonet a rev. The sound tore through the air, and the attacking Fallen paused in hearing it. When they saw her, eyes blazing, her signature weapon buzzing angrily, they stepped back in surprise. And then she roared at them. "Traitors, all of you! You know what fate awaits those who forswear their oaths!" She called upon the Light, imbuing her weapon with it as she plunged the spinning bayonet into the nearest Fallen's chest. He shrieked in pain as it tore into him, the sunfire burning into his carcass, reducing it to ash.

Her rust-red Ghost appeared beside her, its facets opening to shine bright light into the others' eyes, and at the sight of this, they staggered back in alarm. "All those who turned their back on the Gears banner will burn in the Light!" she snarled as she raised her rifle, snapping off a salvo of rounds that cut down another pair of Fallen. The surviving handful fled back up the stairs in a blind panic. Feniks did not rush after them. As her Ghost recloaked itself, she let the Light dim back down to smoldering embers, ready to call upon it again as she stalked up the stairs in pursuit. Shaman-9 glanced at the Vandal he'd been locked in battle with, the Fallen stunned into immobility. With a deft move, he broke the sword-lock and separated its had from its shoulders. He gave the blade a flick to cast the ichor off the blade, then hurried after her.

* * *

Arniks had just swung the mortar into position, lining up the projected arc of the projectile on a cluster of machine-men below, when his troops came streaming back up onto the roof. The Captain checked the tac-mesh on his gauntlet, then glared at them. "Did you not kill him? He's just one Eliksni, and in close quarters his sniping skills won't save him!"

"Captain," a dreg babbled, pointing in terror. "It wasn't him! It wasn't him! It's her! The Baroness! Feniks! It's her!"

Arniks glowered at it, but then lifted his eyes to the doorway as it was kicked open to reveal the Baroness herself. He needed only see the weapon in her hands to know it, even as his mask's optics identified her. "So what if it's her? She is loyal to the weak Semakis! Kill her!" But they all drew away from her, terror in their eyes as she advanced, their voices rising in their fear.

"Kell Morsik said he'd killed her! But she lives!"

"She's a specter! A fury come to kill us for our sins!"

"Great Machine protect us!"

"She's Andresiks Reborn!"

"You are all fools!" Arniks' rage was growing. "Those are all just stories! Lies made up by the scribes to tell whelps who know nothing! Our Kell was mistaken in thinking he'd killed her, clearly. He was grievously injured, delirious!" But when none of them stepped forward to engage her, he drew his sword, intercepting her swipe with her sawtooth bayonet. "If none of you will do it, then it seems I must!"

The chainsaw was dragged to a halt as it bit into the sword, cracking it, splintering its edge, but Arniks did not care about his sword. He would reforge it later. As Feniks snarled at him, he swung his head forward and slammed his head off of hers. She staggered back and he snapped up his rifle. "I don't know how Morsik failed to kill you, but when I bring your banner back to him, he'll reward me with great treasures!"

When he pulled the trigger, his shock rifle spat out a continuous stream of shock energy. It tore through Feniks' shields and drove her back, howling in agony as it played havoc across her metal limbs, through her armor, and through her flesh. Arniks held down the trigger until his charge was depleted and the rifle ran dry. He dispassionately replaced the charge as her smoking corpse fell on the rooftop. "You see?" he snapped at the Eliksni. "She dies like any other!"

He looked up to see the roof's door open again, a _Sha'ir_ Warlock striding into view, its sword glimmering with null energy. Two Eliksni nearby finally moved into action, but the Warlock barely looked at them. One hand thrust the sword into a chest, twisting and slashing it free, as the other raised a hand cannon and blew the other's head into gore. Its face was hidden behind the helmeted hood, but it was clearly staring him down. Arniks raised all four arms and roared triumphantly at him. "So Feniks was in league with the _Sha'ir_?" He scoffed and looked to the Eliksni on the roof, gesturing at Feniks' corpse. "You see? This is proof of their weakness! She needed their help to face us!"

The Warlock said nothing, but the Eliksni did not move to oppose it. As Arniks watched, it even holstered its gun and sheathed the sword on its hip. The Captain wondered about this, but then he saw a familiar shape materialize in the air above Feniks' body. It was one of the Blessed Machines, those strange baubles that the Great Machine had birthed to empower the _She'lot_. As he wondered at its presence here, it opened up, shining a light on Feniks, and then there was a flash that made him shield his eyes.

* * *

Dying the first time had been painful. It had been an experience she had not been keen to repeat. But she had expected that Arniks would have been more surprised at her presence than he was. She had not expected that his sword would be able to withstand the Sawtooth's fury long enough for him to draw his own weapon. Nor that he would have been able to get the shot off the way he had.

Dying the second time had been almost more painful. She supposed, as she lay there, feeling her life ebbing away, that this was because the stream of shock energy had been coursing through her for longer than Morsik's hammer blow had taken, or her collision and impalement on the rebar had been. So it had been a relief when it had ended and she could fall, indignant that she was going to die like this.

And then the voice of the little ball broke into the emptiness that surrounded her.

- _You know, I've seen other Guardians do something similar. Admittedly, not many do it so soon after their first revival._

She imagined it was sighing.

- _Over-confidence. It's a very real peril. So many of my brethren died when the Guardians got over-confident and put together the doomed army that Crota slew on Luna._

She could feel that same inverted-pain sensation starting to filter into her awareness, the same one she felt when she first received the Blessing. The pain was gone, the injuries and damage repaired, and she felt herself getting back to her feet, while the little ball's voice carried on speaking in her head.

- _As long as you are bonded to me, and as long as the Light is there, you need not fear death. But that's not to say you're immortal. You can still die, and there are things out there that can permanently kill you. So try not to do anything too rash._

There was a pause, and then it added, as the orb of Light beside her collapsed back into its familiar rust-red shape:

- _Oh, and stop calling me "little ball."_

Feniks glanced at her Ghost and nodded to it, then turned her amber gaze back on Arniks, who was just blinking the spots out of his vision after her revival. As she waited for the realization to dawn on him, she drew the Light around her, feeling the sunfire sing in her head, exulting in the righteous heat that flowed through her veins. She shaped it, then, into wide, curved, wedges that flowed out from her arms.

Arniks gibbered as he scrambled back from her. "Ghoul! Demon!" he shrieked as he swung the shock rifle back up. It spat its stream of shock energy, but Feniks brought the glowing orange wedge-shapes in front of her. The lightning boiled off of them, as they shielded her from damage. When the rifle ran dry again, she lunged, closing the distance with a roar, plunging two of the wedges into his chest. They transfixed him like the great claws they resembled. As he gasped for air and ether, she brought her metal arms around and drove the other two in through his back.

As he crumbled into ash, she roared, "The Hand of Justice will burn all oath-breakers!" The last of his remnants scattered to the winds, and she snapped her arms away from him as the sunfire faded. She turned then, to face the rest of the Eliksni on the roof, who looked ready to flee again, but Shaman-9 stood in the doorway to the roof, barring the way. They looked from him to her, as she strode over to the mortar. None of them dared to move.

She spun it to face the next rooftop, where the confrontation with the Firebrand had gone unnoticed, and then fired an explosive charge toward them. It impacted with the ammunition stores on the roof, causing it to erupt into a massive fireball. The fighting below paused as the shockwave rippled over them, but Feniks was already swiveling it around to face the third rooftop, where the last mortar camp was scrambling to respond. They weren't fast enough to get a shot off of their own before Feniks launched another toward them, destroying their mortar cannon.

This done, Feniks turned back to the frozen Fallen. Slinging her Swordbow across her back, she drew her swords, holding them up so the oath-breakers could see the Gears' sigil stamped on the hand-guards. "You have a choice awaiting you. Not now, but soon," she told them. "The traitor Morsik and this 'new House' of his will be destroyed for their betrayal of House Gears. This is non-negotiable. Morsik and all those who swear fealty to him will face the consequences."

They flinched as she thrust the sword toward them, but did not pierce or strike any. "When that time comes- and it will come soon- think on your sins. Kell Semakis still lives. House Gears still stands. We may yet be merciful." She rattled her teeth and snarled, "But if you hold fast to Morsik and fight against us when we come for him, then you will suffer the same fate as he will!"

The terrified Eliksni murmured among themselves as she sheathed her blades. "House Gears fights alongside the Human City only as long as Morsik makes war upon us both. Perhaps peace talks will resume. Perhaps not. That is for my Kell to decide. But if any Eliksni who seek redemption wish to aid us, you will contact Variks of House Judgment. He will pass information to us." She gestured to one of the Skiffs hanging overhead. "Go. Think on your sins. Know that I and my Kell will be more merciful than yours."

They needed no further encouragement. They crouched as the transmat fields reached out for them, teleporting back up to the ship, which soon opened a rift into jumpspace so it could flee. Shaman-9 watched it go, and then shook his head. "You continue to surprise me, Feniks. I expected you to be a lot less merciful." He considered this, then added, "That may be because I've seen little evidence to date that your people can be anything less than ruthless. Variks was perhaps the lone exception."

"The Eliksni were once very merciful," she replied. "But that was a long time ago, and in a much happier time. When the ether flowed freely and we lived in peace in the grace of the Great Machine. Since the Whirlwind came, we have been forced to change to face the harsh realities of a cold, uncaring universe."

Shaman-9 gave a sigh and then a resigned nod. "Fair enough." He gestured around the rooftop. "We're in the clear up here. See if you can track Lakonis. Morgan and Yurei can clean up downstairs with the Redjacks." Feniks nodded, settling down as she tapped into the break-aways' sensor mesh, trying to zero in on the absent Baron's signal.


	14. Grimoires II

**Chapter 14: Grimoires II  
**

* * *

 **Lakonis, Gears Baron**

 _"Stand still and stay silent, and your enemies will never find you."_

One of the older Fallen on record, Lakonis has loyally served the House of Gears his entire life. Renowned as one of the deadliest snipers in not just his House, but his entire species, he is lethal from any range. He has even specially customized his wire rifle to extend its effective range. Enemies of the House of Gears learn quickly never to step into the open when the Quiet Baron is on the field.

In the recent schism within the House of Gears, Lakonis declared his allegiance to Semakis, stepping up to assume a leadership role while the Kell was recuperating. The Fallen sniper has withdrawn the loyalist faction to one of the House of Gears' other strongholds, launching long-distance attacks on the renegade Morsik and his followers.

* * *

 **Ghost Fragment: Barrière d'Enfer**

 _"Arrête! C'Est ici L'Empire de la Mort!"_

ARENA DESIGNATION: Barrière d'Enfer

LOCATION: Old Paris Catacombs, Earth

The Parisian Catacombs have always been the subject of legends and stories, of how they lead down into the depths of Hell. Of how they're haunted by the spirits of the deceased interred there. Of cursed treasures and hidden chambers, lost and buried among the bones of the dead.

These persisted even into, and despite the enlightenment of, the Golden Age. Today, the legends have returned in force, drawing forth seekers of glory and riches from multiple sources- human and Fallen alike. Many a Ghost has delved into the Catacombs in search of their Guardian, and not all of them have returned. For there is truth to the frightful rumors of monsters inhabiting the darkened hallways below.

Hive Seeders, long buried since the Collapse, have disgorged their passengers, and the Thralls and Knights have made themselves at home, even as they war with the scavenger parties of the Fallen Houses of Kings and Gears that have sought to find imagined treasures. Truly, this entrance to the Catacombs can be described as a gateway into hell.

* * *

 **Sawtooth Swordbow**

 _If its bolts don't get you, its gnashing teeth will._

The personal weapon of the Fallen Baroness Feniks the Risen, it perfectly encapsulates the House of Gears' ingenuity and adaptability. Multi-functional, it can serve as both Shock Rifle, Fallen Sword, and cutting tool. The Baroness herself made the modifications to the Swordbow, achieving greater energy efficiency and extending its effective range, making her a deadly opponent on the field.

But most significant of all is the chainsaw that she has mounted under its barrel. Razor sharp, even without being active, the Sawtooth is deadly. Once revved to speed, it becomes capable of inflicting grievous injury, and the sound of its buzzing blades has sent many a foe fleeing before her.

* * *

 **WANTED: Pain Infiltrator**

 _Every Kell has his spies, but the last thing anyone was expecting was that a blunt aggressor like Morsik would have some, or that they would be so effective._

WANTED: Any and all members of the House of Gears break-away faction known as Pain Infiltrators.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Terrorist activities; perfidy (to wit: attacking hosts while under a flag of truce); war crimes (to wit: the Burning of Aulus); sedition; flying false colors

Description:

\- Stealth camouflage

\- Weapon(s): Shrapnel Launcher; Shock Rifle; Scorch Rifle; Wire Rifle

Affiliations: Morsik, Nemak

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

* * *

 **House of Scars**

 _"They are difficult to kill. That is the essence of their name."_

The Fallen House of Scars is one of the older Houses to have survived the Whirlwind, but they are a paltry few that remain, and even then, just a loose coalition at this point. They have kept their numbers up by recruiting from outcasts, giving those Fallen who seek a greater unity than can be offered by the House of Exile. They survive by doing mercenary work, accepting payment from other Fallen Houses to do their dirty work. It is suspected that Taniks once belonged to this House before going fully independent.

In the House of Gears' civil war, the House of Scars has been seen working with the break-away faction led by Morsik. The battle-hardened Scars forces have been used to help train the break-aways' forces and lead attacks on enemy forces.

* * *

 **Pain Infiltrator**

An elite unit of spies and assassins taken from various outcast Fallen groups and built around a core loyal to Morsik, the break-away Gears Baron, these Infiltrators have become a fearsome force to be reckoned with, even if their initial attempt to decapitate the Reef's leadership went awry. Their firebombing and destruction of the Aulus facility in the Vestian Outpost killed several doctors, medical staff, and their patients. It is suspected that the Infiltrators have planted agents in other Fallen Houses and factions that have thus far not declared allegiance in the House of Gears' civil war. Given their skill with stealth camouflage, it is suspected that the Infiltrators recruited surviving Silent Fang, or at least salvaged tech from them.

* * *

 **Ghost Fragment: The Quiet Baron**

TYPE: Transcription.

DESCRIPTION: Intercepted Fallen communication.

PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Fallen-type, Baron [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class Firebrand [u.2]

ASSOCIATIONS: Old Paris [Earth]; Earth; Fallen; Eliksni; House Gears; Break-aways; House of Pain; Lakonis; Feniks; Semakis; Morsik

/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS/  
/TRANSLATED FROM ELIKSNI/

[u.1:0.1] Feniks.

[u.2:0.1] Lakonis.

[pause]

[u.1:0.2] You are not dead.

[u.1:0.3] I saw Morsik kill you.

[u.1:0.4] Yet you stand here.

[u.1:0.5] In front of my kill.

[pause]

[u.2:0.2] Kell Semakis lives.

[beat]

[u.1:0.6] Where?

[u.2:0.3] Reef Folk. The false judge Variks sees to his care.

[u.1:0.7] You would trust your Kell to that [untranslatable]?

[u.2:0.4] Is he still your Kell too?

[pause]

[u.1:0.8] Variks is an oath-breaker. Morsik attempted [untranslatable].

[u.1:0.9] I will never follow such perfidy.

[beat]

[u.2:0.5] House Gears needs leadership. Kell Semakis cannot lead until he is well again.

[u.2:0.6] I am not a fool, Lakonis. I know House Gears will not follow me. And you know why.

[u.1:1.0] Yes.

[u.1:1.1] Not least because you are Sha'ir.

[pause]

[u.2:0.7] You saw that?

[u.1:1.2] I did.

[u.1:1.3] I will not ask how or why.

[u.1:1.4] I am not suited for leadership. But House Gears needs it from me.

[beat]

[u.1:1.5] Yes, I will lead House Gears, until our Kell can lead again.

[u.2:0.8] Thank you, [untranslatable].

[u.1:1.6] I do not want your gratitude, whelp.

[u.1:1.7] You have saddled me with a heavy burden.

[u.1:1.8] Morsik and his new House will never stop hunting either of us.

[u.1:1.9] And Semakis is not any safer where he is.

[u.2:0.9] I know that. But what choice was there?

[pause]

[u.1:2.0] Whirlwind take us all, an Eliksni Sha'ir. This is going to cause so many problems.

[u.2:1.0] We live in interesting times, [untranslatable].

* * *

 **Afterword:** Another little "breather" chapter. I had originally intended this chapter to pick up where the last one left off, but I came to realize that it was going to be especially dialog-heavy for the Lakonis/Feniks exchange. So I decided to make it a grimoire entry, hence the remainder of this chapter. That posed an interesting challenge, since while I have grimoire entries in mind, a lot of them would be somewhat spoiler-y, so they probably won't come up until the inevitable "Grimoires III" chapter, or even later. But I snuck a few things in this chapter to foreshadow upcoming events.

While I'm at it, I'm very happy to see the interest this story has gotten. On FanFiction Dot Net, this story has already gotten more follows than any other story I've posted, and more favorites than all but one of my stories, and has already gotten more views in the four months it's been posted than some of my stories have gotten in ten _years_. Over on AO3, where admittedly I have fewer stories posted, it's also been getting some good feedback. This always puts a smile on my face. 

In forthcoming chapters: the conclusion of business in Old Paris, trouble at the Reef, and a visit back to the City.


	15. Due to the Fallen

**Chapter 15: Due to the Fallen  
**

* * *

The sounds of the battle continued below as the break-away forces clashed with the Redjacks. Shaman strode to the edge of the rooftop, opening his comm. "Yurei, are the rooftops clear?" When he got confirmation, he went on, "Climb on down from your perch and come lend a hand. Mortars won't be much further use with the Redjacks in close."

He turned back to Feniks, who was tapping on her gauntlet technics, still trying to zero in on any frequency where she could track Lakonis' movements. He walked toward her, and then got blasted sideways as he felt the feedback of his shields falling. He saw the fading trail of ionized air indicative of a Wire Rifle's fire, but before he could try to track it back to its source, another three filaments penetrated his torso in quick succession, before a burst of Arc energy blew out his chest.

Feniks looked up sharply as she saw the Exo fall. His blue-and-gold Ghost materialized back by the rooftop entrance, its optic wide in alarm, but before it could move in, she raised a hand to halt it there. She had survived multiple encounters with Guardians before her resurrection, and she knew the secret to breaking their supposed immortality. If Shaman's Ghost tried to aid him, the sniper who gunned him down could pick it off with impunity.

The blue-and-gold Ghost hesitated, but kept itself back out of line-of-sight. Feniks then looked at Shaman's sprawled-out body, and she barely needed her technics to back-trace the shots. She knew what weapon had done it, and there was only one Eliksni who wielded it. She turned to squint into the morning sun, looking at the twisted hulk that had once been a _She'lot_ monument. Distant as it was, it was the perfect long-range sniper's perch. Especially since with the sun behind him, it made it that much less likely that Arniks or his men would have been able to spot him.

She raised her flesh hands high, then tapped one metal dactyl off the opposite metal wrist before pointing to the side of her head. Any Eliksni who had worked with snipers learned the hand-signals, so useful when enemy technics or Servitors could be monitoring the airwaves. This one translated to _I know you are there. Turn on your comm._ She settled down onto her haunches to wait for his response.

It only took a few moments before she heard the rasp of the old Baron's voice. "Feniks," he grumbled.

"Lakonis," she returned.

The sniper paused for a moment, economical with words as always, never in any rush to betray his position or emotions. "You are not dead," he observed. She said nothing, as an obvious statement like this needed no commentary. After another momentary pause, he added, "I saw Morsik kill you." Beat. "Yet you stand here." Beat. "In front of my kill."

She drew a breath and pointedly did not look back at Shaman as she held her gaze on the distant hidden sniper. "Kell Semakis lives."

* * *

Below, in the courtyard between the ruined buildings, the Redjacks were holding the line, keeping the Fallen's fire upon them. The red-jacketed combat frames were all sturdy and hardy, veterans of conflict. Even so, one or two had already gone down under the concentrated fire of the desperate break-aways. They'd seen their own mortars turned on their fellows, and they'd seen Arnik's Skiff retreat from the field. The Fallen needed to hold off the attackers until they could mount their own retreat.

One Dreg raised his head as he heard the rumbling sound of their Pikes lumbering into position. He raised his fist in a cheer, but then a form streaked into view over a rise of rubble. One look at the shape of its vehicle told him all he needed to know. He shrieked, " _Sha'ir! Sha'ir!_ "

As the Sparrow drew close, Titan Morgan suddenly stood up on his seat and launched himself forward off of it, landing astride the nearest Pike. Its pilot lifted his head in shock, just in time for Morgan to smack him contemptuously out of his seat with one gauntleted, Void-powered fist. He dropped into the seat and swung the Pike around, turning its guns upon the nearby Fallen, who scrambled for cover. "Welcome to Paris, bugs!" he roared as he blasted a Vandal into sparking, crumpling cinders with the Pike's cannons.

The Fallen break-aways were so distracted by the pincer attack of Redjacks and hijacked Pike that they didn't hear the approaching scream of another Sparrow until the nimble form of Yurei dropped into their midst. They whirled to face her in surprise as she drew her knives, gathering the Arc around her. They did not have a chance to get a shot off before she became a blinding blur of lightning, slicing them to pieces.

As the thunder of her attack faded, and her blades returned to their sheaths, one surviving Vandal caught her from behind with a Shrapnel Launcher. She fell to the ground, but its triumph was short-lived. Her silver-and-blue Ghost popped into view and with a flash of Light, the Hunter was already back on her feet, her pulse rifle blasting the Vandal who'd killed her to the ground.

* * *

Light flashed on the rooftops as well, and Shaman-9 sat up. He checked his chest, but the hole there had of course been repaired, his robes repaired. He looked to Chakra, then up at Feniks, who stood over him, cradling her Swordbow. As he got up, the Warlock paused, his internal chronometer re-synchronizing. "What was the delay?"

"Made contact with Lakonis," she replied. "He will lead House Gears until Kell is able again." Then she added, "Had to persuade him not to kill you."

"She made sure I stayed out sight until the Baron left," Chakra noted. Shaman tilted his head at this, then nodded to the Baroness in gratitude.

He tilted his head again as he heard the combat below and noted, "Morgan and Yurei should be mopping up down there. We should go join them."

Feniks nodded. "Go. I have business to attend to up here." Off his questioning look, she said, "Arniks was traitor, but was still Captain. He and I have a... history." She indicated the pile of ash that remained of him. "Honor should still be paid. Fallen we might be, but not lost."

Shaman straightened up, inclining his head in understanding. Then he bowed. "Of course. Join us below when you are finished." He sheathed his sword and drew his fusion rifle as he vaulted off the rooftop, descending on a plume of Light as he fired at the lingering enemy forces below.

On the rooftop, Feniks crouched beside the remnants of Captain Arniks. As with so many Fallen that had been killed by the Light of the _Sha'ir_ , there was little left of him. A few slagged pieces of armor, a bone fragment, and ashes. She gently stirred the pile until she found what she was looking for- the scorched and tattered remains of his cape. She shook this out, then laid it out as smoothly as the rubble would allow. Another scrounge through the ash and she collected up the remaining bones and a scrap of melted armor. She arranged these carefully atop the cape, then collected his weapon, setting this laterally above the leavings.

She was aware of her rust-red Ghost hovering over her shoulder, looking on curiously. She paid it no mind as she scooped up another handful of ash, casting it across everything. Slowly, she spoke, her voice solemn in the Eliksni tongue.

"Arniks, once of House Gears, now of None. Once, we were young. Raised as whelps with the rest of our creche. Even as I rose, I knew you would rise high as well. Fate made us enemies, but now you go where there is no war. Where there is no hate."

She raised two palms, flesh and metal, on the cape.

" _Yarra_. Go now to find your place in the Land of Endless Ether. _Yarra_. May the Great Machine guide you through the Calm Lands to the House of Eternity. _Yarra_. Fallen not forgotten. _Yarra yarra yarra_."

She leaned back, all four of her arms sweeping in a wide, circular gesture, then giving a bow over the ashes. Finally, she collected the melted armor scraps and the scorched cape, enfolding the former in the latter before tucking it into a pouch on her belt. She stepped over the bones and ash as she made her way back through the building. She could have jumped down like the Warlock had, but she wanted the time to gather her thoughts.

Her Ghost soon caught up. "It didn't occur to me that you were fighting your friends until just now," the little construct murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Arniks was not friend." she replied without turning. "Eliksni always fight. Ever since Whirlwind. Other races. Other Houses. Own Houses." She paused, both in speech and in walk, before continuing, "It is... different when it is someone you know. You still fight them, regardless of reason for doing so. They are trying to kill you, you kill them back." She slowly shook her head. "But after, you pay your respects."

Her Ghost blinked slowly up at her. "But you still knew the Captain." It was not a question.

"Arniks and I were creche-mates," she confirmed. "Whelped near to the same day. Docked within hours of one another." She paused again, rattling her teeth quietly. "Our creche numbered in the dozens, and all of us were skilled. Many rose to Vandal. Some, to Captain. I was first to become Baron.

"When time came to be docked, we were taken under command of different Barons. I first went to Lakonis, then to Semakis when I became Captain. Arniks was always to Morsik. I am not surprised Morsik poisoned him with his hate."

She clambered down through the wreckage littering the building. "I do not regret the killing. Arniks would no more betray Morsik than fire will stop burning. But a creche-mate deserves respect after death."

"Fallen but not forgotten," the Ghost echoed.

"Exactly."

* * *

Morgan ducked under a Vandal's slash and pumped his Immobius into its throat. Ether splashed and hissed out from the neck hole as he flipped the shotgun around, gripping it by the barrel as he swung it into a Dreg's jaw. The break-aways were nearly all disposed of, just a couple handfuls left. He glanced up as Shaman-9 dropped into view, his hand cannon booming. "Morgan," the Warlock greeted him plainly. "Nearly finished?"

"Nearly," the Titan confirmed. "Between us and the Redjacks, we've got this sewn up. Right, Yurei?" The Hunter gave a thumbs up as she flung a knife into another dreg's head.

They all turned and raised their weapons as a Vandal leapt atop some rubble, howling in defiance. Before they could gun it down, however, a flaming line cut through it, rapidly burning the carcass to ash. To their surprise, the lethal strike had come from none other than Lord Shaxx, who returned his Raze-Lighter to its place across his back. The Crucible handler looked down at them and a chuckle rolled from his massive frame. "I love being in the field again!"

"Lord Shaxx," Shaman gave him a brief bow, a sentiment echoed by Yurei, while Morgan clapped a fist over his chest in salute. "I wasn't aware the Vanguard had released you back to field-work."

"Strictly speaking, they haven't. I'm only permitted to accompany the Redjacks in securing more arenas for the Crucible." Shaxx turned to one of his combat frames as it marched up to him. "Dahlia, start clean-up. Secure our downed frames and transmat them back to the Armory." He turned back to the fireteam. "I was glad to help your team with their mission, Warlock. Do you need any further assistance?"

Shaman shook his head. "No, thank you, sir."

The veteran's one-horned helmet tilted slightly. "What _was_ your mission, if I may ask? I wasn't aware of any fireteams active in the area, not since the Fallen ambush at the peace talks."

There was only the barest hesitation before Shaman replied, "An asset of ours was attempting to make contact with a hunter in the area. Looking to gather intel on the break-away faction," he added, indicating the Fallen corpses surrounding them.

Shaxx nodded slowly. He had little interest in whatever intel the Vanguard needed for their missions. His focus was, first and foremost, the Crucible. Such intel as was gathered was only useful to Shaxx if and when it applied to securing arenas for the Guardians' competitive live-fire training. "In that case, we'll stay out of your way until you head back-"

He broke off as he noticed something, and before any of them could react, he drew his hand cannon and fired it over their heads. They turned around to see Feniks, her shields breaking under the sudden fire. The Baroness raised her rifle, but before she could get a shot off, Shaxx's next shot blew a hole clean through her helmet, leaving ether steaming from her as she fell. "Shaxx, stop!" Shaman cried out, as the Crucible handler strode forward to confirm his kill.

"You're getting sloppy, Warlock," Shaxx grunted. "That Fallen could have killed you all."

The Exo sighed. "Lord Shaxx," he said carefully, "that was our asset you just shot."

Silence descended as the veteran Titan slowly turned to look at him. "...Excuse me?"

"Baroness Feniks of House Gears has been working with us to fight the break-away faction from her House," Shaman spread his hands. "We were tracking another Baron in her House, to see if we can rally the loyalists against the break-aways."

Shaxx shook his head. "House Gears? That's who we've been fighting!"

"Yes and no," Morgan interjected. "There's something of a civil war going on in the House of Gears. One side wants peace with the City, the other side don't." He nodded at Feniks. "Her side wants peace."

The one-horned Titan grumbled, hands on his hips and shaking his head. "Politics," his tone made it clear how little patience he had for it. "It might have been nice if the Vanguard had briefed me on this. I might have adapted our strategy better." He gestured vaguely toward Feniks. "And now you're down an asset. My apologies, Guardians."

Yurei gave a slight scoff, shaking her head. Shaman might have smiled, had his face allowed it. "Well, we're not exactly down an asset..."

"What do you mean-"

Shaxx's query was cut off as Feniks' rust-red Ghost materialized beside her. He stared for a moment as the Light flared and the Firebrand was revived. She gave herself a shake as she got her bearings, then looked up to see the Crucible manager, the very one who'd just killed her. She snarled, raising her Swordbow. As she did so, the gathered Redjacks all snapped up their own weapons, as did Shaxx. The air rang with hammers being cocked and screamed with the buzz of her Sawtooth.

"Wait!" Shaman-9 stepped between them and raised his hands. Reluctantly, Feniks let her bayonet spin down, but the Crucible forces did not stand down in kind, even if Shaxx lowered his hand cannon. "Feniks, this is Lord Shaxx, one of the greatest Titans the system has ever seen, and master of the Crucible arenas." He paused as she merely snarled at him. "Lord Shaxx, this is Feniks, loyal Baroness of House Gears, and..." He drew in a breath that he did not need before continuing, "...the first Eliksni Guardian."

No one spoke. The Redjacks all maintained their aim at Feniks, who turned her amber gaze over the lot of them, her Swordbow held in her flesh hands, while her metal set rested on the hafts of her swords. Morgan and Yurei carefully stepped out of the crossfire. Lord Shaxx continued staring at Shaman, then turned his head to look at Feniks. Titan and Firebrand glared at one another, as Shaman blithely queried, "I take it that the Vanguard didn't brief you on this?"

"No." Shaxx angrily shoved his hand cannon back in its holster at his waist. "You," he pointed at the entirety of the team, Feniks included, "are coming with me, back to the City. The Vanguard has some explaining to do."


	16. Civitas

**Chapter 16: Civitas**

* * *

The Awoken had built the Reef out of the remnants of Golden Age ships that had been left inoperable in their escape during the Collapse. Smaller planetoids in the asteroid belt had been appropriated as well, those which hadn't been consumed completely in the Golden Age's resource-hungry expansion. Several asteroids had been destroyed utterly in the Reef Wars as well, and abandoned ketches and skiffs had become part of the Awoken's defensive fleet.

The bulk of the Reef had accumulated around the three largest asteroids in the belt. While the Royal Family and the Reef's leadership tended to occupy several ketches and had claimed Pallas as their seat, Vesta had been heavily developed. Its rotation slowed using Awoken psionics and barely understood Golden Age technology. It was above this asteroid that the Vestian Outpost had been opened, allowing Guardians from the City to visit and trade bounties with the Queen's Wrath, or to visit the Prison of Elders.

It was in one of the facilities constructed on Vesta that Petra Venj functioned as Regent in the absence of the Queen and her brother. The one-eyed Awoken threw a pad onto the table in front of her, groaning as she ran her hands back through her short, trimmed hair. She had never asked to be Regent, but in the chaos following the disaster around Saturn, with so much of the Reef's leadership gutted, she had been the highest-ranking member of the Royal Council. Having to run everything was a stressful thing, even with the council's help. That Prince Uldren had left the regency on her shoulders while he pursued his own endeavors only made matters worse.

"Petra." The voice was a familiar rasp, and she lifted her eye to see Variks leaning on his staff in the doorway. Like so many of the Reef's Awoken, she had been leery of trusting a Fallen traitor, but he had time and again proved his loyalty to the Queen, and since her demise, to the Reef. Petra didn't doubt that he placed the well-being of his own people ahead of the Awoken, but so far as she was aware, if a conflict of interest had ever arisen, he had deferred to her first. She had come to trust the old scribe and rely on him to coordinate with the Crows in the Prince's absence. The Fallen straightened up slightly as she nodded to him. "Kell Semakis is out of surgery."

She tried not to let a grimace cross her features. Bringing the Kell of a potentially hostile House to the Reef had not sat well with her, but she had relented, with the caveat that Semakis, once well, would need to offer oaths and promises to the Reef and its Royal Family. "How is the Kell doing?" she asked.

Variks rattled his teeth. "He is still recovering. Will need to have technic implants." He shook his head. "Our Eliksni will not let him use our stores. Will need to receive implants from his own House."

Petra groaned. "And his House is in the middle of a civil war." She drummed her fingers on the table. "I don't suppose the Guardians have been in touch since they dropped him off?" When he shook his head again, she cursed. "Snuff the starlight! I don't like this, Variks. We're putting ourselves on the line, if this break-away faction decides to make trouble."

"Yes, yes," he agreed. "Risky business. But Kell Semakis is strong leader. Could be figure for Fallen to rally behind." He lifted his head with something like pride. "Could put end to fighting with Fallen for Reef and City."

She laughed bitterly. "I really wish I could believe that."

The old scribe lowered his gaze as well. "So do I. Put three Fallen together, and you will have four different opinions."

"Lady Regent?" They both turned as an Awoken appeared in the door behind him. "Outlier drones have picked up a jumpspace departure." The young man looked to Variks. "It has a Fallen signature."

Petra rose from her seat and looked at him as well. "Variks? Do you know anything about this?"

"Crows have lots of intel," the scribe muttered. "Still trying to find worth in the noise." His metal dactyls tapped on the side of his staff, and then he pulled out a tablet from his belt, his flesh dactyls running over its surface as he scanned the information that scrolled past, drawing down the latest reports. "What banner does it fly?" he asked the young man.

"House Gears," the Awoken replied. "Scouts report that it has the Archon's mark as well."

"Nemak, then," Variks looked to Petra. "Had been opposed to peace talks, but Kell Semakis had swayed her." He rumbled, concern edging the sound. He tapped a few orders into his tablet, ordering the nearby scouts to flank the Archon's skiff and hold it at the Reef's border. "If they are here to cause conflict, we will be ready."

* * *

Shaman-9 looked ahead through his ship's cockpit windows. Far ahead of them was the hovering, slumbering shape of the Traveler, steadily growing larger. Immediately ahead of them was Lord Shaxx's ship, emblazoned with red and the crossed-swords emblem of the Crucible. Behind them, in formation, were Yurei and Morgan's ships, keeping pace. And surrounding them, ready to respond if anything went awry, were Civil Defense ships.

Feniks leaned forward to peer out the windows as well. "They do not trust you," she noted.

"Of course they trust me," Shaman objected. "My team and I helped take down Oryx." He glanced back over his shoulder. "It's you they don't trust."

But the Baroness shook her head. "You told them we were allies. But they do not believe you."

The Exo sighed. "It's an unusual time. The fact that you have a Ghost, and are being called 'Guardian,' is something that a lot of people are going to object to." He peered at one of the CD ships flying nearby. "But I don't think anyone is likely to shoot us out of the sky, as long as we maintain our present course."

Feniks growled slightly, and when he glanced back again, she noted, "They will want to disarm me." When he nodded, she growled again. "I will leave my Swordbow and Scrap Magnet behind. But not my swords. Not my knife."

Shaman considered this. "That may be problematic."

"One Horn is taking me to Vanguard." She rattled her teeth. "I am not a fool. We have intel on Human City. Vanguard are leaders of Guardians, yes?" He nodded, and she went on, "Swords are symbol of authority. I will place myself in their trust, not One Horn's or anyone else's."

The Warlock thought back to the aborted parley in Paris, when Kell Semakis had laid his swords down before the City's people. He gave a nod. "That may work. But there will be plenty of people with guns trained on you, and we can't guarantee they'll all behave themselves."

When their ships docked at the City a short while later, Shaman was proven correct. He disembarked first, his sword across his back and hand cannon on his hip, running his visored eyes over the array of Redjacks and Guardians with their weapons trained on the ramp. As Feniks slowly walked out behind him, he saw one Titan shifting his aim and heard the click of the hammer on his auto-rifle, but as the weapon started to fire, a gauntleted fist shoved the muzzle of the weapon upward. The Titan who fired turned to look at one who stood several inches taller, who raised his other hand and waggled a finger at him. The one who had intervened yanked the rifle out of the other's hand and then turned to look around the hangar. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's make this clear!" The Titan's voice boomed through the room, colored with a Slavic accent. "I know not all of us like the idea of a Fallen in our City! But the Baroness here is our guest. The Speaker himself has requested her presence. The Vanguard will explain what's going on once they've all had a chance to speak with her."

"It is not our place to pass judgment on her," an Awoken Warlock interjected as she stepped up beside the escort party. "That is for the Speaker and the Vanguard to decide."

Now an Exo Hunter spoke from a support beam above. "So if anyone else tries to take justice into their own hands," she dropped onto the catwalk beside the Guardian who had the itchy trigger finger, "I will drop you down the deepest hole I can find, and bury you in it."

Lord Shaxx shoved his way past his Redjacks, adding, "I'll hand her the shovel!" He glared around the hangar, then nodded to the three Guardians who had intervened. "Hunter, thank you and your team."

She nodded, and vaulted down to join Shaman-9 and his team. The two Exos clasped forearms.

"Shay," she greeted him, "what _have_ you dragged home?"

"An ally," he replied. He nodded as the Titan and Warlock joined them, and turned to the Baroness. "Feniks, meet the other half of the team who took down Oryx. The Hunter Rega-7, Warlock Wahei Ohr, and Sergei Bolvan, the Laughing Titan." Wahei and Bolvan both offered friendly enough smiles, the latter even chuckling amiably, but Rega was more serious, merely nodding her greeting. "Everyone, this is Feniks, Baroness of the House of Gears, the first Eliksni Guardian."

Feniks looked over the three. Bolvan had the pale grayish skin common to Golden Age Martian colonists, with a Russian nose and lantern jaw. His dark hair was cropped short into a warhawk. He wore Mangonel 2 armor in the colors of the Freehold flag. Wahei's skin was a pale purplish hue, her silvery hair woven into thin dreadlocks on half of her head, and shaved bald on the other. Like Yurei, her face bore the mark of the Queensguard. She wore brown robes and armored fashioned out of trophies taken off of the Hive Deathsingers. Rega-7 was constructed out of black machinery with blue plating, her eyes and mouth glowing white, with red spikes poking from the top of her head. Emblazoned on her forehead's plate was a white '-7' marking. She wore Dream Eater armor, fashioned out of trophies earned from the Archon's Forge in the Plaguelands, painted and dyed in grays and greens.

The Baroness nodded to them all, and then stood up straight, letting her eyes take in the assembled Guardians with their weapons still trained on her. She gestured with one hand, and her Ghost flitted into view next to her. She glared around again. "Guardian Vanguard will see me," she spoke clearly and distinctly, and gave no sign she heard the mutters of unhappiness. "There is much we have to discuss."

Lord Shaxx harrumphed and gestured for them to follow him. As they moved out of the hangar bay, Rega-7 and her team fell into step behind Shaman's team, and the Warlock saw Amanda Holliday peering from her workshop with a pensive expression. He knew that seeing a Fallen up close like this could only be unearthing painful memories for the shipwright.

Similar expressions could be seen on the other mechanics and civilians manning the Tower as the escort party made their way up to the plaza. From his stall, Master Rahool looked up from his books and engrams with a steady, firm frown on his cool blue features. At his nearby workbench, Banshee-44 never took his eyes off of Feniks, even as his hands went through the practiced motions of assembling an old Khvostov rifle without looking. Tess Everis paused in her latest transaction with a Guardian to look on, and even the sweeping frame had stopped in its endless, thankless task, clutching its broom close. Only Kadi 55-40 had not interrupted her work at the postmaster's kiosk, muttering quietly to herself as she endlessly sorted the missives and packages coming in.

But rather than head for the Vanguard's Hall, Shaxx led them north toward the Speaker's Orrery. The area had been cleared of all other people, except for Eva Levante, as it turned out. The outfitter looked up from her materials and fabrics and paints to watch them go, and regarded the striding figure of Feniks with a curious look in her eye. Shaman glimpsed her picking up her tablet and tapping away on it as they stepped through the doors of the Speaker's demense. There were several Redjacks lining the chamber, but the three Vanguard were present, as were the Faction representatives.

The doors to the chamber shut behind them, and Shaxx stepped up to the railing of the orrery, giving a bow to the white-clad gentleman at the far side. "Speaker," he greeted him formally, before his anger bubbled back to the surface. "Would you care to explain why a Fallen is allowed to keep a Ghost?"

"Before I respond to that," the Speaker's voice was as calm as ever, "let me formally greet our _guest._ " He placed pointed emphasis on the word, his masked visage turning to look directly at Shaxx, before turning back to the Baroness. "Madam Baroness, I am the Speaker. I am the voice of the Traveler, who you call the Great Machine. You have already met Lord Shaxx, custodian and master of the Crucible, where our Guardians train in the ways of combat. Allow me to introduce you to the Guardian Vanguards- the Warlock Ikora Rey," the short-haired woman inclined her head softly, "I believe you've met the Hunter Cayde-6," the hooded Exo sketched a bow with a wave of his hand, "and this is the Titan, Commander Zavala." The bald Awoken nodded his head with the slightest of frowns on his face. "These three," he gestured to the Faction reps, "speak for three factions of influence among the people of our City. Lakshmi-2 of the Future War Cult. Jalaal, an Arach of New Orbit. And you likewise have already met Executor Hideo of the New Monarchy." All three of the reps gave her a nod in return. The Speaker turned to the Guardian fireteam. "Warlock, if you would do the introductions?"

Shaman-9 stepped forward with a bow. "Lord Speaker, Commander, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you all to Feniks, Baroness of the Eliksni House of Gears, loyal to Kell Semakis." He paused briefly, and raised one hand to gesture to the rust-red ball hovering beside her. "And, of course, _her Ghost._ "

All eyes turned briefly to regard the faceted shape, which looked back at them all coolly. Feniks straightened up and brushed back her cape as she placed her flesh hands on the hafts of her swords. The Redjacks all raised their weapons, but Shaman spoke first. "Hold. Trust me, please, she is placing herself in the Speaker's trust." Feniks paused, gave the Exo a nod, and then smoothly drew her swords. She held these up in a sort of salute to the masked man, then reversed her grip and laid them on the dais, the hafts toward the Speaker. "The swords," Shaman went on, "are a symbol of her authority in her House. She has left all of her other weaponry in my ship."

"She still has a dagger," Shaxx growled.

"No Fallen will allow themselves to be without their knife," Shaman replied. "And if she meant violence toward the Speaker, she would have to get past ten of the most battle-hardened Guardians in the Tower, plus an entire squadron of Redjacks. The Baroness is not a fool."

The Crucible handler grunted unhappily, but folded his arms and glowered from behind his helmet as the Eliksni raised her head. "You are the Human Kell." The Speaker shook his head and prepared to speak, but she went on. "You speak for your people. Your House. You are Human Kell." She looked over his head toward the white sphere of the Traveler. "You speak for Great Machine. High honor. Highest Eliksni know." Her amber eyes glowed brighter for a moment before she gave a courtly bow. "I am grateful to meet you, O Kell."

The Speaker looked disturbed by the elevation in title he had acquired, but Zavala leaned forward. "Mankind does not have 'Kells,' Madam Baroness. But this is beside the point. Right now, this meeting concerns your Ghost." He nodded to the rust-red bauble. "And the fact that it calls you 'Guardian.' While my comrades in the Vanguard, and the Faction representatives as well, all respect that a Guardian may come from anywhere, there are others that do not like the implications of this fact."

The rust-red Ghost floated forward. "I realize how much trouble I have caused here, but you all know as well as I do that the Ghosts do not choose our Guardians lightly. But neither do we know who or what our Guardians will be when we find them." It swiveled to look at Feniks, holding her gaze for a long moment before it continued, "I searched every world for years- centuries!- before I felt the Light bring me to Feniks. I was as surprised as you that it would bring me to a Fallen." It paused and bobbed to her, correcting itself: "An Eliksni, I mean. But Feniks is not like the other Fallen. She follows the way of her Kell, who wanted peace between Fallen and Mankind."

Executor Hideo stepped up, hands clasped behind his back. "I did not have a chance to know the Baroness long, but from what I saw, she was forthright in her duties, and genuine in her loyalty to her Kell and his desire to see peace achieved between her race and ours."

Lord Shaxx harrumphed. "I find it hard to believe that a Fallen Kell would think like that."

Feniks snarled, whirling on him. "My Kell is far-thinking! Saw no future in continuing to fight. Saw only death for Eliksni." She pointed a finger at him. "Do not speak ill of my Kell, or I will hang your other horn on my wall."

Across the room, Ikora hid a smile, while Cayde did not even bother to hide his chuckle. Even the usually taciturn Morgan was smirking. Shaman-9 made a throat-clearing noise. "Kell Semakis nearly died for his belief in peace between Eliksni and Mankind," he told Shaxx. "He is still recovering from the attack by the traitor Morsik."

"My Kell wants peace," Feniks reiterated. "I do not know whether peace can last," this was said with one more glare toward Shaxx, "but I will fight so peace can happen. Morsik and his followers will pay the price for their oath-breaking."

Her Ghost looked around at those assembled. "I can't explain why the Light led me to her. But I don't think it was to continue an endless war between her people and Mankind. I think it was to try to bring us together." It floated toward the window behind the Speaker, looking out at the white sphere beyond. "That's what the Traveler would have wanted. What the Eliksni's Great Machine would want. For us to work together."

Shaxx grumbled a bit, then looked to the Speaker and the Vanguard. "If you say, I will keep my reservations to myself, but I'm sure you're aware I don't speak for all Guardians. There _will_ be those who disagree with her very existence. And they _will_ try to fight her."

"Let them fight her, then." They all turned to Lakshmi-2, who lifted her chin in acknowledgment. "But let them fight her in the Crucible. Let them get it out of their system." The Future War Cult's representative leveled her eyes on the Firebrand. "I have heard of you, Baroness. You have survived multiple encounters with Guardians. A match or two in the Crucible should pose no strenuous challenge."

Morgan cleared his throat and frowned at her. "Do we have time for that? Don't get me wrong, I'm down for a round or three in the Crucible whenever, but we've got other issues to deal with."

"Yes, yes," Feniks agreed. "House Gears is split. There are some still loyal to my Kell, and Lakonis will lead House until my Kell recovers. But traitors and outcasts flock to Baron Morsik."

"Baron no longer," Ikora interjected. She tapped a command into her tablet. "He has declared himself the Kell of a new House."

A holo-screen appeared before them, displaying a teeming multitude of Fallen gathered in a ruined cityscape, while the black-armored Morsik addressed them from the deck of his Ketch. _"Hear me, Eliksni. Hear me, children of a lost planet. Listen to me, Gears-born. Listen to me, Whirlwind-scattered..."_

They all fell silent as they watched the new Kell's speech, heard the supportive roars of the mob, and then all eyes turned back to Feniks. Her eyes dimmed as she stepped back from it. "Morsik is insane," the Baroness' voice was quiet. "To wage war with City will not work. Devils have tried it. Wolves are broken. Exiles trust no one. Winter is fading." She shook herself with a growl. "Kell of Kings will not recognize new House so easily. All Morsik can do is get Eliksni killed."

"From what our scouts have told us," Ikora called up a holographic map of the North American continent, highlighting areas along the eastern coast, "his new House has taken control of a lot of old military installations, but he seems to have concentrated his forces here," she pointed, "in the Mez."

Zavala nodded with a typical frown. "The Manhattan Exclusion Zone is dangerous. I don't know why Morsik would station his forces in a hot zone."

Feniks peered at the map, then looked at her Ghost. "Little ba-" She stopped herself, then started again. "Ghost, can you copy that map into my technics?" It bobbed assent and she looked at the map in her gauntlet's screen. She tapped a few commands in and rotated the map a few times before nodding. "This 'Mezz' you speak of, is no longer 'hot' zone." She looked up at the assembled representatives of humanity. "Servitors have cleansed much of it of radiation, of dangerous material."

There was silence as they looked at one another. "Your servitors can do that?" Jalaal's voice was astonished.

She nodded. "Servitors absorb energy, consume matter, produce ether." She sounded slightly smug as she went on, "Main reason House Gears continued to thrive while Devils dwindle. While Devils wasted lives and ether on war, Gears waited, built technics."

Another momentary silence passed before Hideo remarked, "If such a thing is possible, then your people have much they can offer the people of this world. Being able to re-settle in places denied to us by the Collapse was something we never thought might be possible in our lifetime."

Feniks rattled her teeth for a moment. "I cannot speak for my House. But my Kell wants peace, wants cooperation." She raised a dactyl. "But first, Morsik must be stopped."

Shaxx nodded. "On that, Baroness, we agree. Fallen forces from this 'House of Pain' tried to establish a beachhead in Old Paris. Thanks to her and Shaman-9's fireteam, my Redjacks and I drove them out. But they won't stop pushing at us."

"Lakonis needs time to rally loyal Eliksni to Gears banner," Feniks said. "Once they have assembled, they will push at Morsik's House from their direction."

"My Hidden will need more time to scout the Mez and determine their capabilities." Ikora inclined her head to Feniks. "Your help there will be invaluable."

"But before any of this can happen," Morgan broke in, "you're going to need to address the rest of the Guardians. The longer you let this go without telling everyone, the worse the resentment is going to be."

Yurei nodded and signed a few things. But it was the Warlock Wahei Ohr who translated. "Yurei says the best option is the truth- that you wanted to verify whether Feniks was going to be a threat before telling anyone."

"Then let's address the Eliksni in the room," the Speaker declared, "and make it official. Baroness, by your leave, we will broadcast to the Guardians in the Tower that you are allied with us."

Feniks nodded. "Agreed, O Human Kell."


	17. Civitas II

**Chapter 17 - Civitas Part II**

* * *

A foundry is a hot, noisy glimpse into Hell. From the platform high above the forges, the new Kell leaned on the railing, watching as materiel was deconstructed and divided. Dregs and vandals and automata scurried about as they ferried their burdens to various platforms. There, the tinkerers took the machinery and electronics and metal and began their work, sending metal to be smelted, and weaving the new components into something more. Several Walkers were in the process of being dismantled as the Kell watched.

"My Kell!" He turned to see Crasiks, one of the newly raised Barony, approaching. With the Baron were two of his captains and a squadron of vandals, but the Kell's eye was drawn to the trio of Eliksni that walked in their midst. Where Crasiks and his crew wore the black standard of their new House, these three wore an orange banner, featuring a sigil of six rings connected by double lines. Two were only slightly shorter than Baron, but the third, who walked in front, was taller than the Kell, and stared at him with a flat coldness in his eight eyes. All three wore armor that had seen plenty of use, with multiple weld-marks and patch jobs. Their masks bore similar wear. These Eliksni had seen hard combat, and it showed with their gait, slow, measured, and practiced. The two lessers were constantly looking around the foundry, but their leader kept his gaze firmly on the Kell.

Crasiks clapped a fist to his chest and bowed briefly before gesturing to the three outsiders. "They have arrived." The Kell said nothing, and Crasiks continued, "My Kell, may I present-"

The tall Eliksni interrupted the Baron with an upraised hand. "Be silent. I will speak for myself," his voice was rasping and metallic. He had not taken his gaze off of the Kell. "We are of House Scars. You know our House. You called for our swords, our guns." He leaned his head slightly to one side. "Such things come with a price."

Crasiks bristled, snarling. "Show respect, whelp! You speak to Morsik, Kell of the House of Pain!"

The outsider said nothing, but the Kell saw two of his eyes on that side of his head shift toward the new Baron, then look back to him. Morsik twitched a dactyl on the haft of his hammer, and then the outsider moved with uncanny speed. One scarred hand grasped the flange of Crasiks' mask and dragged him close, while two clenched fists crumpled in one side of his mask. Crasiks let out a howl of pain, ichor dripping down his neck and ether leaking from cracks in the faceplate. The Baron's hands went to his weapons, but already the outsider had dragged Crasiks' own knife from his waist.

"You know nothing of pain," the outsider declared. "I shall introduce you."

With barely a growl, he hurled Crasiks onto his belly, then plunged down with the knife. The Baron shrieked as the blade embedded itself through his palm and left him stuck to the floor of the platform. Around him, Crasiks' crew snapped their weapons up, and the outsider's comrades smoothly drew their own guns and blades. The outsider, however, rose to his feet and met the Kell's gaze once more. The two looked at one another for a long moment.

"Hold," Morsik finally ordered. He had not looked away from the outsider, nor had he looked away from the Kell. "That was one of my Barony you just attacked."

"...And?" The outsider's voice had no inflection to it. For all he seemed to care, Kell Morsik had just informed him that glimmer was raining from the skies.

Morsik nodded once. "My House is drawing more Eliksni to its banner with each hour. I need experienced leadership to hold the newcomers and our core household together. House Scars is known for its skills in the art of war. I have need of this."

"I do not speak for House Scars," the outsider stated. "House Scars bows to no Kell. House Scars _has_ no Kell." He cocked his head again. "But I have three ketches, with crews loyal to me. If I command it, they will fight alongside your House." He cocked his head the other way. "But such things come with a price," he repeated.

Morsik nodded. "When we have razed the City That Docks and reclaimed the Great Machine, your House shall be richly rewarded."

The outsider snarled, rattling his teeth. "House Scars does not work on credit, O Kell. You will pay us up front, or we will leave." There was the click of weapons, as the vandals and captains shifted angrily at the outsider's tone, but he did not flinch, or give any sign that he'd heard them.

The Kell regarded him thoughtfully a moment. "You are the Scar who walked out of the Twilight Gap? Who escaped from the Prison of Elders when the rabid pup Skolas rebelled against the Reef Queen?"

The outsider simply nodded. "I am Skarris."

Morsik, Kell of Pain, hissed and threw open his arms. "Then welcome to my House, O Deathless one. Let us go and discuss your payment, and then begin integrating your forces with mine."

* * *

Activity in the Tower stopped again as the Speaker and the Vanguard walked out onto the balcony overlooking the Tower plaza. In the City below, the man in white's masked visage was broadcast to screens in gathering places and people looked on as the most revered man in the City spoke.

"Our City has long been at war, with enemies outside our walls. For more than a century, the Fallen Houses of the Eliksni have been laying siege to this," he raised his hands to gesture at the dormant shape above the City, "our refuge beneath the protection of the Traveler." Laying his hands on the balcony railing, the Speaker continued, "Today, I am here to tell you that the end of that siege is in sight."

In the Tower plaza, the assembled Guardians, merchants, and workers all murmured suspiciously. The Speaker let this pass for several moments. "Recently, the Kell of House Gears approached us, seeking to end hostilities between his House and the City, seeking a place where peace might be born between his people and ours." He raised his hands again, as if to quell the sudden outburst of shouting from the plaza, and even the uproar in the City below. "For this, he faces rebellion within his House, and even now, is recovering from an attempted assassination, but those loyal to him are still pushing for an alliance with the City, so that together, we might stop the threat the rebellious faction poses."

A voice called out, hot and furious, from the crowd. "Why should we fight their battles for them!?" A chorus of agreement rose up at this.

The Speaker's mask turned slowly to face the direction from which the voice had shouted. He said nothing while he waited for the anger to momentarily subside, and took a deep breath before continuing, "Because for the first time, the Traveler has seen fit to choose an Eliksni to become a Guardian." He turned as a Fallen stepped into view, head held up and proud, the shape of her rust-red Ghost beside her.

The merest sight of her caused another commotion both in the Tower and the City. A few people even threw things in her direction. She remained impassive, and did not flinch as some flew past her head. She held firm for several moments, and then lifted her hands to her mask and helmet. Drawing it from her face, her glowing amber eyes squinted briefly in the light, her mandibles shifting and lips drawing back from needle sharp teeth. Her flesh was grayish purple, and it was revealed that the mane of brassy-colored fur was largely part of a headdress attached to the helmet. There was a small bristly patch of dark hairs running down the middle of her head, from a point above her four eyes.

She blinked slowly as she took a breath of air, and her mandibles vibrated, making the familiar rattling sound. But she tucked her helmet under one of her lower arms and looked out at the crowd below. For many, this was the first time they'd really seen a Fallen without a mask on. Even with the thousands that the Guardians had slain, only a small portion- and those, largely Warlocks- had taken any interest in what their enemies looked like behind the fearsome visages.

"This," the Speaker finally interrupted, breaking what had been half-silence and half-rumbled disapproval, "is Feniks, Baroness of House Gears, the first Eliksni Guardian."

She stepped forward and looked over the Guardians below, recognizing more of the same looks as she had received in the hangar upon arrival. After a long moment, she spoke, her voice carrying, rasping as it adjusted to the common language of humanity. "I am Feniks. I find myself chosen to receive Blessing of Great Machine, which you call Traveler." She paused, waiting out the fresh outraged chorus. "I do not know why I was chosen, but I am honored for it." Then she slammed her metal fist on the railing, the clang of its impact ringing out over the plaza and bringing a hush to the crowd.

"Semakis, my Kell, lies injured, for all I know, he may still die. Not to Guardians, but to betrayal. I honor my Kell's wishes. He saw no future for Eliksni in continuing war that threatens to consume what resources and people we still have left." Her mandibles vibrated as she growled. "Morsik, the betrayer, thought him weak for this and now calls for Eliksni to rally under new banner, so he can resume war." She hissed. "'Seeking peace is not weakness, but seeking war is not strength.' My Kell believed in this. So do I."

"Yeah?!" Another voice shouted up from below. "And how many Guardians have you killed?!"

On the balcony, the Vanguard stirred, but Feniks snarled back, "How many Eliksni have _you_ killed? How many dregs never got to earn arms back? How many vandals never found way back to nests? How many Captains saw crews slaughtered before being cut down?" She rattled her mandibles and bared her teeth in a scowl before drawing herself up again. "We have only ever sought to survive, and in desperation, bad decisions are made."

Commander Zavala stepped forward now. "I know that there are plenty among you who will object to the Baroness being called a Guardian." He glanced to her and nodded, "I know it's difficult for me to accept, after all I've seen. But for now, we and Feniks have a common enemy in this Kell Morsik and his so-called 'House of Pain.' Once Morsik has been stopped, then we can come back to the objections." He turned back to the Guardians in the plaza. "Soon, the Vanguard will have missions for those rated for operations in the North American continent. But until then..." His blue lips twitched up briefly in a smirk. "The Baroness has agreed to meet those with an axe to grind in the Crucible."

He paused, looking over the crowd below. More than a few Guardians had raised their hands in the air. Some, he knew, were more interested in seeing what an Eliksni Guardian could do, than in any objection to her new status. Zavala gestured for quiet. "Talk to Lord Shaxx, and he will select the team to face the Baroness. The Crucible match will take place in three hours."

The Speaker now stood at the railing again. "I understand peoples' reservations about a possible alliance with the Fallen. I believe their desire for peace to be genuine. There is much the Fallen- the Eliksni- can offer us, all in exchange for a place that they can call home here on our planet, a chance to reconnect with the Traveler that had once visited them so long ago." He raised his hands up to the slumbering god-sphere. "All those who seek peace and fellowship are one in the Traveler's eyes. Whether they are human, or Exo, or Awoken, or, indeed, Eliksni." He folded his hands in front of himself. "All I ask is that we give Feniks and her House a chance. Thank you." He bowed solemnly before making his way back into his chambers, followed soon by the Baroness and the Vanguard.

Inside, Cayde-6 clapped his hands together once and rocked on his heels. "So... yeah, that went well." He gestured toward the balcony outside. "Just every Guardian in the Tower wondering whether the Speaker, and Vanguard, and Crucible master have all lost their damn minds."

"We gain nothing from not telling everyone," Ikora reminded him. "And the sooner we can direct everyone's anger toward other targets, the better." She turned to Feniks. "How will Baron Lakonis get in touch with you? Morsik is bound to be monitoring the frequencies that the House of Gears uses."

Feniks nodded. "There are encryption protocols that Morsik does not know. Protocols only Lakonis and my Kell would know."

Cayde couldn't let that one pass. "But _you_ know them."

"When I became vandal and then Captain, I served under Lakonis." Feniks glanced at her gauntlet and tapped a few commands into it. "Semakis had protocols for each of Barony. We exchanged protocols while in contact in," she paused briefly as she pronounced the unfamiliar human city's name, "Par-Riss."

Her rust-red Ghost looked up. "I can patch us in when we get word from him!" It paused, then looked at Feniks. "Should I tell them what I found when you hacked their mesh back in Paris?"

The Vanguard turned to the Ghost, then looked to her. "What is your Ghost talking about, Baroness?" Zavala inquired.

Feniks twitched a mandible. "Arniks' battle-mesh was open to me. Had not changed codes. Hacked his shanks. Gained information." She paused, then nodded. "Show them."

Her Ghost bobbed a nod, then drifted over to the table, hooking into the computers there. A holographic display materialized, showing Fallen glyphs scrolling past. In one corner, the connected circle-and-gear sigil of House Gears glowed, and as the glyphs moved by, other sigils were highlighted amid the data, pulled aside and lining up underneath the Gears sigil. Ikora and Cayde examined them as the party joined the Ghost at the table. "Hmm," Cayde tapped a finger against his chin. "I don't read Fallen that well, but I'm guessing this means that some minor Houses are already declaring for Morsik?"

Feniks nodded confirmation. "Not whole Houses, but crews and skiffs from them. House Flood, House Metal, House Blades. Remnants of House Wolves." Then she paused and pointed at one in particular. "This one is bad." It was a set of six rings connected by double lines. "House Scars. Mercenary House. All dangerous warriors."

"House Scars?" Morgan frowned, lip curling at a memory. "That was Taniks' old House, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Feniks twitched her mandibles again, snarling quietly. "Other Houses shown here approached Morsik to join him. But Arniks' mesh showed he was casting out to House Scars on Morsik's behalf. Calling for their services."

"I remember fighting House Scars forces during Six Fronts," Zavala mused. "And at Twilight Gap. They went down hard. And tried to take as many Guardians with them as they could." He leaned his knuckles on the table with a grimace. "If Morsik recruits them to his new House, his forces will become that much more difficult to hold off."

"There may be more House of Pain forces left in Paris," Cayde went to his console. "I'll find some of my scouts to go run some patrols, make sure we don't have them on our doorstep."

Shaman-9 bowed. "In the meantime, I should prepare for the Crucible." When Feniks gave him a surprised look, he shrugged. "I am not going to let you face an entire Crucible team by yourself." He paused and then turned his visored gaze up to her. "Your people might call us _ghouls_ , but we're not _monsters_."

Morgan grunted. "I barely had a chance to relax when we last got back to the City. I need a chance to unwind." He glanced at Yurei as she signed something with a cold expression on her face. He looked at Yurei's Ghost, then back to the others. "I don't think it's a good idea to translate her exactly. But let's just say she doesn't like Fallen much, and isn't keen on fighting with one at her back."

Shaman paused, but then the Warlock Wahei stepped forward. "Don't mind them. I'm actually keen to see what an Eliksni Guardian can do! It would be an interesting insight to how the Light interacts with non-human races. What element of the Light do you wield? How does it feel to channel it?" She probably would have gone on further in this vein, but then Rega-7 sighed and gently clapped her on the shoulder, interrupting her.

"Not the time, Wahei," the Exo Hunter advised her. She glanced at Cayde and Ikora, then turned back to the others. "I was active in Paris not too long ago, mostly keeping an eye on the Hive in the Catacombs. I know the ruins pretty well. I'll track down any lingering Pain forces for you."

The towering form of Sergei Bolvan suddenly shook as he threw his head back and laughed. "Well, that leaves me to round out our Cruicible team, yes?" He looked to Feniks with a gleam in his eye and a fierce grin. "I love a good fight, and this should be a good one!"

Shaman nodded and folded his hands behind his back. "That's settled then. Let's go back to my ship where we can talk strategy."

* * *

Some time later, the Speaker's conference room was still full of people, as the Vanguard worked in conjuction with the Faction representatives to collate data and dispatch forces to deal with the House of Pain threat. Lakshmi-2 provided intelligence and information gathered by the Future War Cult on Morsik's followers. Arach Jalaal of Dead Orbit was coordinating his fleet's movements to monitor areas that the House of Pain had claimed and fortified. And the New Monarchy's Executor Hideo was keeping the Vanguard appraised of the City public's shifting opinions in the wake of the revelation.

"I've been getting a lot of heat about it," Hideo said again. "There are a lot of refugees that had to abandon villages and towns when the Fallen swept through, and people like that don't forgive easily." He paused, then added, "But I've been getting almost as many questions about whether this means we can end the war with the Fallen. If maybe the Traveler is trying to tell us something."

The Speaker just nodded gravely. "There is much we don't know concerning this, and the Traveler has not revealed anything to me." He spread his hands. "All we can do now is the best we can, and direct people's attention away from hating the Baroness and aim their aggression outward, at Morsik."

"Speaking of the Baroness," Zavala glanced up from his console, "they should be arriving at the Crucible arena at Bannerfall shortly. Shaxx chose Baez's team to oppose her team." The tone of his voice suggested he wasn't happy about this.

Cayde looked up as well. "What, the team that's been leading the standings out of those trials that the Disciples thinks they're hiding from us?" He paused, and then added, without looking around, "Ikora, I can _feel_ you glaring at me. I never mentioned his name."

Hideo stroked his jaw thoughtfully. "Feniks and three of the Hivebane against four of the Warband. That's a Crucible match worth watching." He looked to the Hunter Vanguard. "What's the line on that one, Cayde?"

The Exo contrived to look innocent. It didn't suit him. "Why would you ask _me_?"

Zavala cut in, "Because if there's any kind of gambling being done on the Crucible, you're usually horn-deep in it."

Cayde spread his hands. "Like I'm any good at gambling. I mean, that's how I got this job, wasn't it?"

The normally dour Jalaal was smiling as he pointed out, "I'm not so sure that's true. You won that little wager against Shaxx not long ago. Had him coaching children's sports..."

The Hunter rolled his optics. "All right, all right, yeah, I may have a book running on this match." He pulled a battered notebook out of a pouch and flicked to a page. "Six will get you ten that Baez and his team will come out the winners."

Hideo nodded once. "Put me down for one thousand glimmer on the Hivebane." He stroked his chin, then added, "And another two hundred that the Baroness will at the very least tie with Baez for most kills." Cayde dutifully noted this in his book.

"Never let it be said that I'll let a monarchist out-bet me," Jalaal muttered. "One thousand on the Warband."

The other two Vanguards shared a look, and the Titan shrugged. She lifted her chin to catch Cayde's eye and nodded once to him. "One-K on the Hivebane, each, for Zavala and I."

Lakshmi-2 just gave one of her enigmatic smiles. "One thousand on a no-contest." When the others voiced protest, she just smiled again. "I simply think the match will not have a clear victor. And I'm willing to put glimmer on the line for it."

Cayde shrugged at that. "All right, then. And a hundred glimmer off the top of each beat for me, for running this," he made one last notation, then tucked the book away. "Right. Enough talk. I've been waiting all day to see this."

* * *

 **Afterword:** Apologies about the delay, Guardians! As you might expect, I've been playing _Destiny 2_ a lot, and when I had time to write, the creative spark was being elusive. I had intended to get to the Crucible match with this chapter, but as I wrote, I realized that the word count was climbing. I don't want these chapters getting too big, for ease of editing and navigation in my files.

I've got the next couple of chapters mapped out, and a pretty good idea how the finale will go. I may even be calling said finale, in my notes, as "the raid."

I've been writing some other Destiny-related stuff that I've not posted on or AO3, largely because some of those might be spoiler-y for this story, and because I'll be doing some touch-up work for them before including them in a future fic.


	18. Crucible

**Chapter 18: Crucible  
**

* * *

The hold of Shaman-9's ship was cramped with the presence of four Guardians inside. Ordinarily, they'd have all taken their own ships out to the arena and transmatted down at the same time. But given that it was a relatively short flight from the Tower to Bannerfall, they'd opted instead to travel together. It gave them a chance to discuss strategy as they looked over a holographic map of the arena, while dutifully going through weapon checks.

The Titan, Sergei Bolvan, regarded Feniks' weaponry as she made some checks and adjustments. "Interesting guns," he rumbled. "I'd heard your House was good at making guns."

Feniks eyed him. "Where did you hear this?"

"From me." This was from the Awoken Warlock, Wahei Ohr. She smiled. "I've spent a lot of time back at the Reef since they opened the outpost to us. I listened to Variks as he talked about your people. I find your histories fascinating." She polished her scout rifle as she spoke. "And every House is renowned for something, traditionally at least. Things changed after the Whirlwind. House Winter was known for their honor. House Rain for prophecies. House Wolves for their ferocity in battle. And House Gears was always known for their ingenuity and inventive spark."

The Baroness tried not to preen slightly. "Has always been true of House Gears." She held up the gun in her hands. "This was my Kell's weapon, the Scrap Magnet." She briefly explained its operation, and saw Bolvan smile as he considered the possibilities. "And this is my personal weapon," she drew out the Sawtooth Swordbow, and the Titan's grin only grew wider.

"Now _that_ ," he chuckled, "looks like a dangerous one. A tool and a weapon designed to maim in one!" He looked almost morose as he patted the shotgun in his hand. "And here, I only have the Comedian to provide punchlines."

Shaman-9 interrupted. "We can all talk weapons and armaments after all this is over. Let's talk about who we're facing." He tapped a button and four holographic images appeared. Two human Titans, an Exo Warlock, and an Awoken Hunter. He indicated the first Titan, a grim, bearded man with a tangle of gray hair. "Baez is one of very few Guardians to have survived the Great Disaster on Luna. He's also one of the deadliest Crucible fighters. He and members of his team have dominated the standings in the Trials of Osiris in recent years. He's a powerful Striker, almost as powerful as Sergei."

Bolvan nodded with a grunt. "This is true. I hear they won't even take bets on which one of the two of us would win in a straight-up fight. Even I'm not sure which of us would win." He nodded at the other Titan in the display. "And Aurelio, his blood brother, joined the ranks of the Sunbreakers recently." He scratched at his jaw, adding, "I've seen some of their Crucible matches. Aurelio likes to try to pin opponents in an area with the Hammer of Sol so Baez can smash them with the Fist of Havoc."

"We can't discount Enne, either." Wahei pointed to the Warlock display. "Raayi Enne is a sharpshooter and she will find any perch she can reach and pick people off from there. You always want to be careful when moving into the open."

"And then there's Rhodes-6," Shaman sighed. "He's a Stormcaller, and is very good at calling down the lightning." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But, when he comes out of a Stormtrance, I can match him in combat. I'd even say I could neutralize him altogether."

Feniks gave a roll of her shoulders, hissing. "No matter. I have fought Guardians before. I am still here." She curled the dactyls of one hand and called up a bloom of solar fire for just a moment. "And I have new talents."

Bolvan chuckled, but gave a shake of his head. "You only get one chance to surprise them. Baez and his team are Crucible veterans. The same trick won't work more than once."

"We'll want to spread out, not let them pin us down." Shaman-9 tapped a few points on the map. "Keep on the move, try to keep an eye around these places. Our Ghosts tend to rez us in these general areas. The Warband know this, too. So be wary."

A tone sounded then, and the comm crackled briefly before Lord Shaxx's voice echoed in the hold. "The match type is Clash," the Titan told them. "Nothing complicated here. Defend your allies and defeat your opponents. Your team has been designated as Bravo Team, Shaman."

"Thank you, Lord Shaxx." Shaman-9 picked up his helmet and slid it on, sheathing his sword on his hip. "Shall we, my friends?"

Wahei nodded, rising as well. Sergei Bolvan threw back his head and laughed. "Let's have ourselves a good fight!"

* * *

Alpha Team spread out slowly after transmatting into the arena. Raayi Enne was the only one to move more swiftly, darting forward before leaping through the air up to a ledge and clambering out of sight, pulling her sniper rifle out as she went. Rhodes-6 adjusted his grasps, pausing momentarily to watch the play of the Arc along the circuitry tracing the knuckles. Then he smoothly strode off, drawing his gun as he went. The two Titans remained, the younger checking the ammo clips on his armor. "What's the play?" he asked his comrade.

Baez, his helmet's faceplate up, turned to look at him briefly. "Just like we discussed. The Hivebane are secondary. The bug is the primary target." He raised his voice slightly, to make sure the rest of his team knew the drill, "Keep everyone appraised of what tricks the bug uses." He turned to Aurelio and nodded. "Get going. They don't have a Hunter, so we don't have to worry about their snipers." The young Titan gave a thumbs-up before sprinting off.

The old Striker slowly strode down the lane until the tree and its surrounding plaza came into view. He slapped a clip home into his auto rifle and cocked it, hearing the sound echo. "Come on out, bug!" he shouted. "You think because you have a Ghost, that makes you a Guardian? Come and prove you have what it takes to tangle with one!" He listened to the pops and staccato cracks of the first exchanges of gunfire, then spun around as he heard the thump of feet hitting the ground, and there it was, regarding him from the alley. The Fallen Guardian, the Baroness the Speaker had called it. The brassy fur headdress rustling in the breeze, its yellow eyes glaring at him. It held a shrapnel launcher in one hand, but Baez had lost count of the number of times he'd evaded the fire of such weapons.

Baez gave a simple smirk as he reached up and pulled down his helmet's faceplate, the metal shaped into the stern visage of the Eternal Warrior. As it locked into place, he raised his auto rifle. "I'm going to enjoy killing you over and over again, bug-" He broke off as it suddenly lifted its launcher slightly and fired at his feet. He fired a burst in its direction, but it flashed aside and was out of view. Belatedly, he realized that its launcher had spat a smoldering lump of jagged metal, which even now smoked in front of him. Instinct came to him, and he started to lunge away, but then the lump suddenly burst into a spray of spikes, feeling them smash through his shield and pierce through his armor.

The Titan collapsed on the ground. A few moments later, he came to his feet as his Ghost revived him. He picked up his auto rifle and snarled. "Be careful," he advised his team. "The bug's shrapnel gun works like a grenade launcher."

* * *

"First blood goes to you!" Shaxx told Feniks over the comm. "They'll seek retribution for this."

Feniks purred with satisfaction as she primed the magnetic coil of her launcher. "They will try to kill me," she confirmed. "I will kill them _back_." She slowed as she saw the open space ahead and swapped to her Swordbow, scanning the upper areas for the sniper. As a result, she wasn't paying full attention when a red-armored Titan appeared in front of her, snapping up a rifle in her face. She knocked it aside with a sweep of her own gun, her other hands swinging in unison in a furious swipe.

The red Titan raised a gauntleted arm and blocked her, as his other hand twisted in the air. A fiery hammer formed in his fist, which he promptly slammed into her chest. She felt fire and heat sear straight through her shields and armor, and she staggered backward. Unpleasant events came back to her, the phantom pain of the rebar transfixing her to a wall blossoming within her, causing her lungs to seize up. Rendered immobile from the memory, she wasn't able to respond to the Titan swinging a shotgun up and blasting her point-blank with it, knocking her on her back.

She felt ichor pouring from holes in her armor, and could still feel the embers of the Sunbreaker's hammer-blow scorching her. Through blurred vision, she looked up to see the Titan rack another round into the chamber, then level it at her head. He didn't even speak before blasting her to oblivion.

A few moments later, she materialized in a flash of Light and growled in anger. She glared at her Ghost before it cloaked itself. "Where is that Titan hiding?" she demanded.

- _I can't tell where a specific enemy is. But I should be able to modify your helmet's heads-up display to provide a motion tracker._

She eyed this as she stalked ahead. She primed her Swordbow as she stalked toward one of the old market squares. She could hear the crackle of firefights elsewhere, and even heard a few thuds as bodies fell to the ground. Feniks didn't particularly care. She wanted to find those Titans again. The grizzled one with the fearsome visage on his helmet for taunting her, and the red-armored one for so contemptuously killing her.

She saw the enemy Warlock darting across an overhead bridge, snapping her rifle up and firing a flurry of shock rounds, which spiraled swiftly toward the departing opponent. She heard the grunt of an impact, and moved forward to engage pursuit. She passed a pillar, and then suddenly she felt a blast of null energy knock her sideways. She spun away from it, seeing the grenade stuck to the wall, felt the cold suction of the Void gnawing at her Light. Then she looked up just in time to see the enemy Hunter toss off a mocking salute before pulling the trigger on her sniper rifle.

When she was revived this time, Feniks snarled with rage. The sunfire burned in her veins, desperate to be used, and she reached out to try to shape the Light into the dreadful blazing claws she'd used on Arniks back in Par-Riss. But as she did so, she felt the sting of bullets against her armor. She flashed aside, Swordbow already raised as she sighted on the enemy Warlock. This time her shock rounds caught him successfully, even as he dodged and weaved, unsheathing a sword from across his back.

She sidestepped the downward swing of the blade, dropping her Swordbow into her lower hands as she drew her own swords. Blades clashed with one another, as the Warlock Rhodes-6 found himself on the backstep. The Baroness' greater size and reach, not to mention having two swords to his one, kept him on the defensive. He managed to slam a palm into her chest, sending the Arc crackling through her, but she just growled and then her other set of hands twisted her gun toward him, pumping another flurry of shock rounds through him.

She let him drop and as she did, glimpsed the flash of red in her motion tracker. She whirled to see the older Titan, the stern visage of his helmet glowering as he charged in. She thrust her swords toward him as he closed, but at the last moment, Baez left his feet and crashed one lightning-infused knee into her helmet. She went staggering back, and then two strong fists seized the flanges of her helmet, twisting and boring her to the ground. She snarled, but then he raised one fist in the air before slamming it down with inhuman force. After her Ghost revived her this time, she heard Shaxx admonish her, "Prove your worth, Guardian!"

Feniks howled in fury. She looked up to see the Warlock Wahei loading a heavy machine gun, feeding the ammo belt into the breach. The Awoken nodded to her. "Yeah, I've seen many a kinder-Guardian react the same way after getting killed a few times so quickly in the Crucible," she sighed.

The Warlock's Ghost appeared next to her, narrowing its eye at her. "I _really_ wish you wouldn't call freshly-risen Guardians that. It's insulting, don't you think?"

"Not as insulting as being the primary target of an enemy Crucible team's aggression." Wahei shook her head. "The rest of us have been shot at, and both Shay and I have been downed once already, but the Warband seem to be focusing on you, Baroness." She polished a bit of dirt off of the emblem of the Queen's Wrath on the side of the machine gun, then cocked it meaningfully. "Time to remind them why we're the team that took down Oryx."

She turned, purple Light wreathing her palm as she slammed it into the red-armored Titan as he charged into the room. The fiery hammer fell from his hand, its Light snuffed and consumed by the hunger of the Void. Wahei shoved him against the wall, where Feniks promptly skewered him with her swords, wrenching them free with a snarl. Aurelio collapsed to the ground before fading, transmatted away as his Ghost prepared to revive him. Feniks lowered her swords and hissed. "Need to find their sniper. Keep them off-balance." She drew out the Scrap Magnet and adjusted its coil, changing its mode of fire out of 'grenade' mode.

"Good to hear," Shaman-9 spoke over their team comm-frequency. "I have a plan."

* * *

Raayi Enne jabbed a Spike Grenade into the underside of the balcony, above the door-frame, then jumped backward. Bending the Light around her, she jumped off of empty air another three times before alighting atop a roof. She did a sweep of the area with her scout rifle before drawing out her sniper rifle again. "Okay, 'nade is set at the alley exit of the Bravo side market," she warned her team. "We're doing well, but they're trying to avoid my ambush lanes."

"We expected that," Baez reminded her. She could hear his auto-rifle fire, echoed strangely on the comms. "So far, Bolvan seems to be trying to keep me occupied with fighting _him_." Indeed, over the sound of auto-rifles exchanging bursts, the telltale sound of the opponent Titan's laughter could be heard. The crack of thunder interrupted this, and then a second crack also erupted. She glanced aside to see the flash of the Arc flicker off the walls from back by the divider colloquially dubbed the 'mohawk' by their team.

"The Fallen doesn't seem to like hammers much," Aurelio interjected. "She seemed a lot angrier after I used one on her." He broke off, then: "Damn! Warlock, incoming, Bravo bri-" The Sunbreaker cut off abruptly, and Enne bent back to her sniper rifle, glimpsing Shaman-9 ducking into the back room in Bravo's inside corner.

"Poke your head out, c'mon," she whispered, but then the sudden steady booming of a heavy machine gun tore through her focus. She flinched back as the bullets smashed her shields down, threatening to perforate her completely. She saw the other Warlock, the former Queensguard, advancing slowly as she poured more fire in her direction, only getting interrupted when she stepped in range of Enne's grenade trap. The sudden conical burst of Void Light knocked Wahei to her knees, and Enne scrambled back into position, lining up her shot.

And then a hand grabbed the barrel of her weapon and shoved it upward. Another hand grabbed the lip of the roof and hauled its owner up, as Feniks finished her six-limbed wall-crawl. "Shit!" Enne released her weapon and went for her knife, but the Eliksni was faster. With one hand, she smacked her across the jaw with the butt of her own rifle, then brought up the shrapnel launcher with another. Before the Hunter could get her bearings back, the Baroness blasted her three times in quick succession, downing her.

Near the center lane, Baez barely glanced at the 'Guardian down' notice that popped up in his HUD. He and Sergei Bolvan were locked in a stalemate, each holding the other's lightning-infused fist at bay, straining as they tried to knock the other one off balance. Every time Baez thought he was gaining ground, Bolvan merely chuckled and redoubled his efforts. The grizzled veteran didn't know where the other Striker drew such determination from, but he wasn't surprised. He'd seen Wei Ning in action, and she was still held up as the ideal all Strikers aspired toward. And Bolvan had always ascribed to the Wei Ning Method of "if at first you don't succeed, punch it harder."

"We're going to be at this all day," he finally said.

True to his name, the Laughing Titan just chuckled. "Yes," he agreed. "A good fight."

"Maybe," Baez nodded, "but I don't have all day."

He twisted his grip, grabbing Bolvan's fist directly, and channeled the Arc that crackled through his arm back around and fed it into his own fist. It glowed brightly, and caused his foe to startle just enough for the veteran to smash him across the chin. He kicked Bolvan away, and then untapped the full might of the Arc, hands glowing like actinic stars. The other Titan had just enough time to try to bring his shotgun to bear before Baez smashed into him, Fist of Havoc blazing, sending him flying with a crack of thunder.

He turned to see the enemy Sunsinger glide into view, aiming at him with his fusion rifle. Baez let the Arc-infused rounds splash off of his body, which still crackled powerfully, and he began to sprint toward Shaman-9. The Warlock wasn't fast enough to evade him as Baez leapt at him and slammed him out of the air with another burst of the Arc. Almost immediately, however, there was an eruption of Solar flame as Shaman rose up again, his sword flashing as he slashed away Baez's shields.

"It won't be enough," the Eternal Warrior said as he grabbed Shaman's arm, halting his swing. "But I respect the attempt."

"Thank you," the Exo replied. "But I was just the distraction."

Baez grunted as the Baroness' two swords stabbed through him, wrenched free with a flash of shock energy. He slumped to his knees before his Ghost transmatted him away. Feniks flourished her blades and then helped Shaman to his feet. "Good timing," the Warlock smiled, before they both heard the signature _clang_ of a Sunbreaker calling forth the Hammer of Sol. They split up and darted out of sight as Aurelio hurled flaming hammers after them.

* * *

All across the City, people were engrossed with watching the match unfold. Nowhere was this more true than at the Tower. The lounge below the Hangar was filled past capacity as Risen, citizens, and frames alike watched two teams of the most powerful Guardians known clash. There were more than a few jeers every time they saw the Fallen Baroness score a kill, but as the match went on, there came an answering chorus of whoops as they recognized the skill involved. The Warband had pulled ahead quickly at the start of the match, but the Hivebane and the Baroness had closed the gap. It could seemingly go either way.

In the Vanguard Hall, the three commanding Guardians were also watching, when they weren't dispatching orders and otherwise monitoring the other aspects of their jobs. The Faction representatives were also gathered there, their attentions more focused than that of the Vanguard.

Jalaal finally spoke. "If I may be honest, Hideo?"

"I've never known you not to be," Hideo nodded for him to continue.

"I'm surprised that you wagered against a member of your own faction." The Arach gestured as the feed from the arena focused on Aurelio, who had fired a rocket out to drive Wahei and Bolvan back into an interior room, where Rhodes-6 was waiting in a Stormtrance. "The Sunbreaker there is a devout follower of the New Monarchy. He's been very outspoken about it. And yet you bet against him."

Hideo shrugged, but was smiling. "I won't deny I'll be happy if his team wins, even if I bet against them. But something tells me that the Baroness will surprise us all."

They paused in their chatting when Ikora Rey looked at something on her tablet, pacing quickly to her console. The other two Vanguards looked up as she began pulling reports. "Something the matter, Ikora?" Zavala inquired.

Ikora shook her head, but frowned. "Cayde, have your scouts picked up anything moving our way in the last few hours?"

"Not anything that stuck out," the Exo shrugged. "Mostly just some stuff on the outskirts of the E.D.Z., and confirmation from Rega that she's landed in Old Paris."

"I'd swear I'm picking up traces of jump-space rifts out near the Gap," the Warlock shook her head again. "But nothing concrete." She shared a look with Zavala. "Still, given recent Fallen transmissions..."

Zavala nodded. He toggled his comm. "All perimeter guard. Be on the look-out. There may be Fallen forces attempting approach."

* * *

Wahei hurled a Nova Bomb into the branches of the tree, driving Enne into the open. In mid-air, however, the Hunter pivoted about, drawing one hand back as she materialized a bow of purple energy, firing a lance of Void Light that tethered the Warlock in place. Nearby, Shaman-9 grunted as he felt the eldritch binding hold him fast, Solar Light cut off. Both he and Wahei started firing at the airborne Enne, who let the bow fade as she jumped off of thin-air and darted out of sight.

Wahei turned to the hateful tether and tried to draw the energy from it, feeling the hungry Void sucking it away, but it wasn't happening fast enough. Shaman switched to his fusion rifle as he saw Aurelio jump from a balcony, the Hammer of Sol _clanging_ into his fist before he hurled it toward them.

Feniks scuttled into view from the alley behind them, body low to the ground and moving with deceptive speed. She rose up in front of them, and the blazing fire of the sun glowed from her arms as it shaped into wide wedge-like claws. All four arms bore one of these, and they crossed in front of her, claws overlapping to form a shield, upon which the Hammer of Sol was blunted. Behind the shield, Feniks snarled, then swept her arms apart as she flashed forward, underneath another Hammer-throw. Aurelio charged to meet her, hurling another Hammer, but she knocked this one aside with one shielded arm, causing that 'claw' to shatter.

He tried to smash down with one last Hammer of Sol as they met, but she was faster. Two of the claws caught him from either side, before the third plunged into his throat. Flames consumed him as he dropped and was transmatted. "Nothing can stop the Hand of Justice," she said as the Solar Light dimmed from her.

She heard the clacking of a machine gun cocking and spun to see Baez leveling his heavy weapon in her direction. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the first few bullets that slammed into her shield, but she got clear before a fatal shot could land. She felt ichor leaking from her as she staggered into cover, but there was a flash of shock energy from where Wahei and Shaman had been standing, and she heard them shouting in blinded pain.

Then the Eternal Warrior sprinted into view, seeming to skid on electric skates, swiveling his machine gun toward her. Feniks knew she couldn't flash away fast enough, so she lunged forward and brought up the Swordbow to knock the barrel of his gun to one side. He swung a fist at her, but she caught him with one metal fist. She turned her gaze toward his weapon as he tried to pull it back into play, but it was held firm by her other metal hand.

Rattling her mandibles, Feniks looked back at him. "I know this weapon," she said. "My people call it the Singing Thunder."

His expression was unreadable beneath the visage of his helmet, but he inclined it as if in respect. "A good name. We call it the Thunderlord."

" _Also_ a good name," she agreed. She brought her personal weapon into view. "This is the Sawtooth Swordbow." She could sense him appraising it, even as he struggled to break her grip, unable to twist free. She brought her hand to the grip near the front. "Listen to her song now."

Baez's eyes widened beneath his helmet as the bug suddenly pulled something, and he saw those jagged blades beneath the weapon's barrel begin to spin, an ear-splitting shriek rending the air as she slowly bore the spinning blades toward his neck. Baez was used to death. It had been a constant companion in the centuries since the Great Disaster, when he'd seen the Light of so many comrades snuffed out at Mare Imbirum. Death always hurt. But he wasn't fond of pain. And this Baroness' saw-toothed weapon promised a painful death.

They both stopped, however, as the technics in her own gauntlet suddenly beeped harshly. She looked at her gauntlet, then spun down her weapon's saw as she tapped a control on her mask. Baez saw the lenses of her mask turn crimson as she looked up and scanned the skies and horizon. Then she shoved him back and howled. She barked something in Fallen-speak, and shook her Swordbow in the air with fury.

The Striker raised his own auto-rifle, aiming at her, before the bug's rust-red Ghost appeared, its optic wide. "Wait!" it practically shouted. "Her sensors just picked up incoming Fallen signatures!" When he lowered his rifle slightly, it went on, "The frequencies indicate they're House Gears break-aways- the House of Pain is attacking!"

Then there was a blast in the skies, a pressure wave as a rift opened up, as the looming shape of a Fallen Ketch dropped out of jump-space, its kilometer-long bulk casting a shadow over the entire tower. Despite this, Baez could see the paneling on its side had been burned, leaving only faint traces of the formerly copper-colored livery, its side now painted black. The sigil on the side was of a stylized Eliksni half-skull on top of three crude vertical slash-marks.

Both human and Eliksni stared up at the massive ketch as it loomed overhead. They were swiftly joined by the other six Guardians that had lately been fighting to the death. It was the Sunbreaker Aurelio who spoke first. "What the hell are the Fallen doing here?" He aimed his gun toward Feniks. "She brought them here-"

"They are here for me," Feniks said flatly. "But I did not summon them." She turned and glared back at the young Titan. "I am seen as traitor. Fighting alongside _Sha'ir_ \- Guardians- and making play for peace with _She'lot_ \- humans." She rattled her mandibles. "For this, they will try to kill me." She gave the Sawtooth a spin, its shriek briefly splitting the air. "I will kill them back."

"Balls to that!" Sergei Bolvan pumped a fresh round into his shotgun. " _We'll_ kill them back."

Rhodes-6 nodded in agreement, the Arc crackling along his grasps. "This is _our_ City. We're not going to let them attack it." He nodded to the other two Warlocks. " _Nemo me impune lacessit._ "

"No one provokes me with impunity," Wahei agreed.

Baez pushed his helmet's faceplate up and regarded them all, just as the Baroness was doing. Then he shared a look with the Eliksni. The grizzled Striker asked her, "How many Fallen on a Ketch?"

"Scores and scores of them." She shook her head. "Hundreds. Thousands."

"Yeah, but they're outnumbered." Aurelio was loading a rocket launcher. "They're going up against seven Guardians."

"No." They all turned to Baez, who gave the Baroness a fierce grin. He pulled down his faceplate and then clasped a fist over his chest in salute to her. "They're going up against _eight_."


	19. Scars and Bones

**Chapter 19: Scars and Bones  
**

* * *

The atmosphere on the ketch was filled with tension.

The Eliksni upon it knew their course. Straight toward the City of Thieves, the haven for mankind's ghouls. Virtually none of the Eliksni aboard had been a part of the previous Great Campaigns against the City. Many had been whelped afterward, and of those that weren't, they'd formerly been of House Gears, and that House had not taken part in those battles. When the first Campaign had come, where the monstrously powerful ghouls the _She'lot_ called "Titans" had stood against the siege from six different directions, House Gears had been a smaller House, and used their talents in a supporting role, repairing damaged materiel and supplying weaponry. When the later Campaign had come, the Gears Kell Chaksis had held their forces back from participating, cunningly anticipating the war's failure with the absence of House Wolves. Their more distant, less frequent, aggressions against the humans had meant that House Gears had gotten stronger, while other houses had suffered.

But even if they hadn't been bloodied in the Great Campaigns, the Eliksni now wearing the black banner of the House of Pain knew all too well what the City That Docks could do. The humans had built a wall that had withstood their siege for an age. Stories had circulated about what a single _Sha'ir_ ghoul could do to a ketch's crew. The Eliksni Larnis, a high-ranked Captain who now commanded the ketch, had been to this star's second world, had seen what remained of one of House Winter's ketches. The tales said that it had been not even a handful of _Sha'ir_ that had killed that crew. And now his ketch was approaching a City with hundreds of them.

Had Larnis not been on the cusp of the Barony himself, had he not seen what his Kell had done to the poor fool who'd commanded the ketch before him, he might have refused the mission. He had sworn to Morsik the Hammer because he wanted his people to attain glory again, to take back what had been stolen from them. Their people deserved it after all the horrors they had witnessed since the Whirlwind had destroyed Eliksnios. But to head straight into the mouth of the beast? With none of their House's powerful weapons or technics or the other wonders they had built since coming here? Larnis believed he now understood why Semakis had not sought conflict. It was just a waste.

But the command had come from his Kell, and Larnis had no desire to be an oath-breaker twice over. Kell Morsik would have him flayed by the Splicers before smashing his skull with his hammer. And that was supposing that he wasn't otherwise dealt with by the two mercenaries that had accompanied his crew.

He regarded them warily as he stood on the bridge of the ketch. One of them loomed over a console manned by one of the lesser priests. Like the other mercenary, he stood taller than Larnis, who had just begun to grow into his full size with his captaincy ether ration, but the mercenary Marrdis wore patchwork armor, welded together from a collection of sources. One pauldron sported the spines of a servitor's casing and one of his legs terminated in a stump, on which had been grafted the metal toe of a Walker. And this was before one considered the intricate scarification that adorned his arms, as one expected to see from a House Scars mercenary.

But it was the bigger one who frightened Larnis the most. He, too, sported the patchwork armor and scarification common to his House. But even these showed the signs of battle. One arm's scar pattern- which he recognized had been the glyph for 'High War'- had been damaged in some conflict from ages past, so a long-healed gash almost rendered the glyph unreadable. Even the adornments of a Baron showed signs of wear and damage, as if their bearer had ripped them from their previous owner- something which Larnis wouldn't have ruled out. Skarris was not an Eliksni who settled for peace.

It wasn't Skarris' appearance that frightened him, however. It was the Scarred Baron's demeanor. Where his comrade Marrdis faintly radiated a restlessness that promised a near-berserker fury when the battle was joined, Skarris exuded nothing but a chilly calm. If even a micron of the tales that he'd heard about Skarris were true, then he had ever been thus, and showed the same icy resolve in battle as outside it.

"Why attack the City now?" Larnis had asked once they'd got underway. "A single ketch? Against the entire human City? Even with the element of surprise, we can't hope to do anything except poke the nest and get stung." He rattled his mandibles. "And the _Sha'ir_ sting _hard_. They don't do half-measures."

The Deathless one slowly turned his head to regard him, upper set of arms folded. He lifted his gauntlet and pressed a command. Larnis looked down as his personal console screen began showing data. While the captain read it, the mercenary leader spoke. "Reports from survivors in ruined place. An Eliksni fighting alongside Guardians. A Baroness."

Marrdis looked up from his own perusal of a console to pick up the thread. "Likely Feniks. Unquestionably loyal to Semakis. Potentially new Gears Kell." He purred. "So she must be eliminated."

Skarris nodded slowly. "How she survived the ambush at the parley meeting is irrelevant." He drew forth his wire rifle and began priming its capacitors and checking the wire hopper as he continued, "Your Kell wants her dead. So we will kill her."

Larnis gnawed on a mandible tooth, making a displeased sound. "Tales are that Semakis lives. He will not be pleased to hear she is dead."

"Semakis is either dead or will be soon," Skarris retorted flatly. "Infiltrators in Reef will see to that. And if he does live through this...?" He made an indifferent gesture.

Marrdis laughed. "He finds out that Feniks is dead, his rage will drive him into attacking your House. And what Gears that live will be wiped out."

The captain could say nothing, _do_ nothing, in response to this. The House of Pain wanted to pay the _She'lot_ back for the trauma inflicted upon them. He accepted this, even encouraged this. And the House Scars mercenaries had a point; they needed to eliminate any potential loyalist leadership to stop the House Gears remnants from rallying together. But the whole thing left a foul taste in his mouth.

And then they were above the ruined tower on the edge of the City of Thieves. Alarms began sounding as the Eliksni of the House of Pain headed for their deployment chutes. The two mercenaries straightened up. "To the deck," Skarris ordered. "Be ready to deploy your forces on our command."

* * *

Semakis awoke. He immediately regretted it, his mandible clattering in agony, a ragged hiss tearing out of his throat. He realized he was laying on his belly and tried to push himself up, but found that his arms would not respond to his commands. He raised his head and looked around, and felt the harsh buzzing pressure against his jaw as he did so. So, he was in a stasis field, keeping him immobile. He spotted a panel on the wall in purple, bearing the logo of House Sov.

 _So, I'm in the Reef,_ he realized. _In a stasis field. To be sent into the Prison of Elders?_ A fresh wave of pain brought back the memory of the ambushed parley with the City. He rattled his mandibles in anger. _Morsik, the traitorous wretch! May he be thrown screaming into the Whirlwind!_

He became aware there were others in the room. After a moment, he felt movement, as the stasis field tilted up, then pivoted to bring the rest of the room into view. Standing in front of him was an Eliksni in green colors, leaning heavily on a staff as he examined the kell. _Variks, the oath-breaking scribe,_ Semakis tried not to growl at the sight of him. _Of course he would be here._ But then his eyes fell upon the larger Eliksni in the room, who held a staff of her own, and wore the copper banner of House Gears.

"Archon," the kell croaked. "What are you doing here?"

The Archon Nemak stepped forward. "You were injured," she replied. "The _Sha'ir_ brought you here for medical attention. You have been unconscious for quite some time while you were in surgery." She inclined her head slightly. "I arrived a short while ago to check your condition."

Variks rattled his mandibles quietly. "There is significant damage yet to be fixed, Kell Semakis. Spinal lacerations, soft tissue trauma, ichor loss. Much of it will require technic prosthesis to repair." The old scribe shook his head slowly. "We cannot provide these without approval from Royal Family."

"My skiff does not have the technics to hand," Nemak spread her lower hands. "But once I am finished here, I will send word of your condition, so things can proceed."

Semakis nodded as best as the stasis field would allow. The injuries that the scribe had listed would definitely explain the immobilization. "I thank you, scribe," he said to the older Eliksni. "For your reputation, this was more hospitality than I expected."

Variks growled. "We are more than our worst acts, O Kell." He inclined his head. "I did what I did because I saw only House Wolves' end in fighting with the Reef Folk. I will carry shame of breaking my oath until I fall at the last, but this does not prevent me from doing right by my people."

Semakis nodded again. He glanced at Nemak, then back to Variks. "Leave us, scribe. The Archon and I have business to discuss."

The elder Eliksni bowed and backed to the door. "I will be nearby when you are finished."

When he had left, Kell and Archon stared at one another. Nemak clicked her mandibles at him. "This could have all been avoided," she admonished him. "There are many in House Gears who feel that you should never have let Morsik live when he spoke against your plans."

He grunted. "Perhaps I should have. I was expecting him to foolishly declare war on the Human City, but I never expected him to declare war on me and tear my House apart."

"Morsik has always despised weakness," she paced the perimeter of the room as she spoke. "You were there when he called for Chaksis' end. Are you so surprised he would have acted against you when he saw weakness in you?"

Stasis field or no, the Kell snarled at her, bearing needle-sharp teeth and glowering. "Seeking peace is not weakness! Seeking war is not strength! How many times have I said this?" He snapped his mandibles together and growled. "I expected resistance, not rebellion." He sighed, sagging into the field. "My House, divided. My people, at war. My-" He paused and glanced up. "Feniks. Was she-?"

He didn't need to hear the Archon speak as she glanced away. "Morsik was wounded himself, but has claimed to have killed her." She paused. "I know she was... one of your staunchest supporters." Nemak paused in her pacing, her back to him. "For what it's worth, I am sorry, O Kell."

Semakis tried not to let the sorrow gnaw at his soul. He closed his eyes and spoke quietly. " _Yarra._ May the Great Machine guide her to the Calm Lands to the House of Eternity." He heard Nemak echo him with a soft, " _Yarra yarra yarra._ "

Then he paused and looked up slowly. "Archon, you were one of those in my House to speak against my plan for peace with the Human City." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "You were standing alongside Morsik until just before I exiled him."

She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "If you'll recall, I declared for the Kell. Is an Eliksni not entitled to change their opinion, O Kell?"

Semakis froze. She had addressed him just now as _O Kell_ , when the correct form of address was _My Kell_. The other form was used when addressing the Kell of a different House. He growled. "How many times has your opinion changed, Nemak?" His voice rose with his anger. "What was your opinion when I exiled Morsik, rather than kill him? What was your opinion when he tried to assassinate me?! _What is your opinion now, oath-breaker!?_ "

She spun, twisting her staff as she moved, a long stiletto sliding out of one end. She thrust this through the stasis field and into his chest, leaving him gasping and choking. He tasted ichor in his mouth as she wrenched it free, cleaning the blade before secreting it away. She regarded him coldly as she raised her gauntlet and began tapping its controls. "My _opinion_ is that Morsik was right."

With a harsh blaring tone, the stasis field vanished, and Semakis collapsed to the floor with an agonized cry. His limbs would not respond, and he felt his ichor seeping from the injuries on his body and the terrible hole in his chest. The Archon stood above him, leaning down to glare. "Weakness must be cut out, if the Eliksni are to be strong again. And ours is a house of strength."

Semakis tried to speak, but could not fill his lungs as he choked on the floor, trying to push himself up, but feeling was leaving his extremities. He croaked out a plea for help, but it barely made it out of his mouth, much less the room. Nemak tapped her gauntlet again, then touched the collar of her armored robes. "Archon to Infiltrators, are you in position?"

 _"We await your orders, my Archon!"_ a chorus of voices responded over the comm.

The Kell grabbed for her foot, but Nemak brushed his limp dactyls away with the butt of her staff. She crouched before him and chittered softly. "Take solace in this, Semakis- soon you shall be reunited with your Feniks."

Then she stood and spoke again into her comm. "Archon to Infiltrators. Purge the weak. Let there be fire."

* * *

Somewhere above him, Morsik's new House was hard at work, constructing the weapons that he would bring to bear against the _She'lot_ and their ghouls. The tech-priests were also feverishly slaving at their terminals, trying to pry secrets from the old human technics that these ruins held. Anything they could find and salvage would be restored or re-purposed, converted into instruments of Pain.

The black-armored Kell, however, was stalking down the corridors of the sprawling complex the House of Gears had built when they first claimed the blighted ruins. He growled every time he saw a patch of the old copper banner somewhere; not every sigil had been burned away or painted over. In this complex, below the surface, was the personal quarters of the Kell. Once, they had belonged to Chaksis. Then Semakis claimed them. Now Morsik was in the process of stamping his will on them.

He entered and snapped to the two attendants within, "Out." They hurriedly departed, and the warmonger turned to inspect the trophies being brought in to decorate everything. Scraps of banners taken from enemies he'd slain. Technic wonders gleaned from a lifetime of scavenging. Glints, herealways, twists of essence, and the trophies taken from the dozens, _hundreds_ of raids he'd led on _She'lot_ settlements.

A voice spoke to him softly from the shadows of the expansive chamber. " _Such strength you have,_ " it remarked. " _With each hour, your House grows stronger, your enemies weaker, and yet you seem troubled._ "

Morsik clanged the head of his Hammer against the floor. "There will be many dead by the time I am through, and not all of them will be among the _She'lot_." He growled. "Every death leaves the Eliksni weaker."

The voice merely tutted at this. " _All things die. But you will steal a great victory yet. And then you will steal the greatest of glories._ "

The Kell of Pain grunted. "I have known you a long time," he left his Hammer standing where he'd planted it, pacing among his treasures as he drummed his dactyls on the hafts of his swords. "You have guided me well. Because of your portents, I became strong."

He swung about and bellowed into the shadows, "But you told me not to take the throne of the Gears Kell! Had I taken the throne when Chaksis fell, House Gears would have become strong enough to challenge House Devils for primacy!"

" _No. No, no, no,_ " the voice was soothing. " _It was not yet time for you to lead. House Gears needed Semakis to make it stronger before you could claim it. Be honest with yourself. Would House Gears have grown strong if you had been Kell before Semakis?_ "

He growled and turned away, smashing a metal fist through a glittering bauble in his frustration. At last, he snapped, "No. I was, still am, more interested in fighting than building. I would have led House Gears into war too soon. The _Sha'ir_ would have slaughtered us."

" _Precisely,_ " the voice purred. " _I have always given you the foresight you needed. And I tell you this: the City will burn. A great army will sweep down on it and the Guardians will be powerless to stop it. And the Light will sweep forth in a great wave._ "

Morsik turned back to the shadows and his eyes gleamed with burning avarice. "Truly? The City That Docks will fall?"

" _All things fall. The City will fall. Have I ever lied to you?_ "

The Kell stood before one of his trophy displays. "No," he finally said. "You have not." He reached out and picked up the trophy within the stasis field, a twisted, bleached knot of bone that shimmered strangely in the light. "Forgive me my doubts, old friend."

The voice was a hiss in his ear. " _There is nothing to in me, and you will get what you desire, o bearer mine._ "


	20. Three Fronts

**Chapter 20: Three Fronts  
**

* * *

"Archon Nemak asked for privacy to speak with Gears Kell." Variks addressed the comm-panel, on which Petra Venj looked out at him. The Eliksni scribe was in the administrator's office for Aulus Medical. The hospital facility was one of the Reef's largest, and housed the only equipment capable of treating the Reef's remaining loyal Fallen.

"Can we be sure she's here out of loyalty to Kell Semakis?" the Regent asked. "You said she had spoken against his parley with the City. Could she be working with Morsik?"

Variks tipped his head to one side. "Very possible. I have guards outside the Kell's room." He clicked his mandibles once. "And her skiff is under our guns. Any attack would be foolish."

But Petra looked unconvinced. "I've seen the same reports from the Crows as you have. Some of the forces rallying to Morsik's banner are some of the remnants of Skolas' Wolves." She leaned into the feed, her one good eye glowering at him. "That includes the last few surviving Silent Fang."

From a corner of the room, someone cleared their throat. Variks turned to Celsus Pax, Aulus' administrator. He was slim, his dark hair cut short and slicked back, his white uniform immaculate. Steepling his fingers, he addressed the Regent. "Lady Venj, the Kell's room is in a secure wing of Aulus. The entrances only admit one person at a time, to minimize infection." He turned his luminous green eyes to Variks. "Even if Nemak does have spies or assassins with her, they won't have been able to get into the Kell's wing." He straightened up proudly. "Indeed, Aulus Medical is one of the most secure facilities in the Reef- only the Palace and Defense Command are more secure. They won't be able to cause any problems for us!"

Both Pax and Variks looked up, the former even flinching, as the lighting turned red and as alarms started blaring. The Regent's face tightened. "What's happening?" she demanded.

Scribe and administrator both consulted the readouts. "Fire alarms!" Pax shook his head. "And security breaches! How-"

Variks snarled. "Be silent," he snapped. "Lady Petra was right to worry." He consulted the panels and began tapping commands into his gauntlet. "I am dispatching security forces to problem areas. But wings Alpha, Bravo, and Echo will need evacuation." He raised a hand to forestall Pax's protest. "Firefighters may be sent in once patients and bystanders are safe."

Petra nodded on the comm-panel. "Do as he says, Pax." She turned and shouted to someone off-feed. "Get an interdiction field up around that skiff! And keep the guns primed! If it twitches wrong, blast it into oblivion!" She looked back to the scribe. "Do what you need to deal with the problem, Variks. Pax, see to the evacuation."

The administrator drew himself up. "Yes, Lady Regent!" When the feed cut off, he slumped, took a deep breath, then looked to Variks. "How many people can you spare to help with evac?" As he spoke, he was already fluidly sending missives and organizing his response.

Variks considered. "I can give a squad of Reef Guard to help- no, _two_." He tapped his dactyls on his staff, then added, "None of our Fallen will be in the evac group. I will send them with Guard to hunt terror gangs." He looked at his gauntlet, then flicked something into it. "We will use this comm-frequency. I must deal with the problem."

* * *

The City had been attacked by the Fallen in the past. Indeed, it had been under siege more or less constantly, though only twice in numbers sufficient to have been ready to overrun the walls. Tales were still told about the Battle of Six Fronts and the acts of heroism that took place at the Twilight Gap. In the time since then, the Forces of the City had striven to prepare more active defenses, to be ready to fight to protect their home alongside the Guardians. Civic Defense ships were already scrambling to respond to the Fallen Ketch that had thrown its shadow over the tower of Bannerfall. The Guardian Tower was rushing to dispatch reinforcements of its own.

This left eight wielders of the Light to face an entire ketch's worth of hostiles. They all reloaded their weapons and watched the embarkation deck, which was wreathed in an energy shield, mostly obscuring its occupants from view. Even so, they could see Fallen forces swarming upon it. Aurelio squinted at it, then casually gestured with his rocket launcher. "They have to know that we could blast them all off of there with these," he noted. Sergei Bolvan had his own rocket launcher out, and beside them both, the Hunter Raayi Enne was slotting rounds into a grenade launcher.

"There are other deployment chutes," Feniks warned them. "They will drop from _there_ , first." She tapped her gauntlet, the lenses of her mask shifting from a red hue to a purple one, peering at the shielded deck. "Trying to find leaders. Will be strong Captain, or of Barony."

"If they're going to drop from other chutes," Rhodes-6 mused, "then we should spread out. If they contain us too much in one area, they can drop us with cannons."

Baez nodded in agreement. "Holding ground in one place while surrounded by enemies worked at Six Fronts, but it's not a battle I'm eager to repeat. Enne, get up high, pick them off." He turned to the three Hivebane. "We'll be on tac-channel three." They nodded.

Feniks' Ghost piped up, "I'll patch in the Baroness to the channel."

"Call out any surprises they have," Shaman-9 added. "The House of Pain broke away from House Gears, so they'll probably have some tricks up their sleeves."

"Yes," the Baroness agreed. "They will."

* * *

The Skiff kept itself high above the ruins, conserving cloak energy by lingering in a cloud bank. It still flew the copper Gears banner, and its crew crouched in their chutes, listening to the electronic chatter of their servitor and its attendant automata. Below them in the ruins, there were signs of Eliksni occupation, with constructions of comm-towers and mining equipment. It hadn't been that long ago that the crew had been among those ruins as members of the same House. But now the copper banners below had been torn down, burned in pyres, and the black banner of the House of Pain flew in their place.

The loyalists in the Skiff buzzed restlessly. While none of them had any love for the _She'lot_ or their ghoulish soldiers, they had been appalled at Morsik's betrayal. Attacking a peace summit was something they might have expected from the barbaric Devils or the Mad Wolf Skolas. None of them could follow such perfidy. So when the call went out to all those loyal to Kell Semakis to rally to the Gears banner, they had answered.

Rain fell upon the ruins below as they waited. The city below them did not have the ruins of great tors and skyscrapers like some of the others their people had looted and ransacked over the years. But it had clearly been of some import when the _She'lot_ had been a more powerful race. The partially collapsed dome of one building dominated the landscape, while the charred skeleton of a white stone spire still stood in what had evidently been some greensward before overgrowth had overtaken it.

To look at the ruins at first was to suggest there was little here for the Fallen to pillage. It was not a sprawling metropolis like the irradiated places to the north, redolent with technics and resources to plunder. But there were other things that the Whirlwind-scattered were interested in, and it was in the tunnels and undercities that surrounded these ruins that the Fallen found these different treasures- great computers and powerful AIs. None as powerful as the Warmind the _She'lot_ called Rass-Puu-Tin, and many of them had fallen into rampancy over the long centuries, but navigating past these degenerated gatekeepers enabled them to access vast caches of data.

Among this data were the codes needed to activate the humans' long-dormant weapons of mass destruction. While many had been detonated or launched in the chaos of their civilization's Collapse, there were still plenty that slept in silos and bunkers across the world, and the loyalists of House Gears intended to make certain that Morsik and his followers were denied access to these, if only to assure themselves that their House retained control of them.

As they hung in the clouds, watching the entrenched positions below, a vandal swung over to the Skiff's Captain. "What are we waiting for? The longer we stay here, the more likely their servitors will spot us."

Tethiks looked to him. "We have a mole in their position down there." He turned his gaze back to the sensor mesh. "He will tag their central comm-spire." He paused, waiting, and as expected, the vandal saw the wisdom of the plan.

"We can then take out the spire," the vandal nodded, "and disrupt their response to our attack." He scratched at his neck, then pointed out, "The spire's only one step. There will be a High Servitor below."

Tethiks just nodded without turning. "Our mole has already tagged it. But it is not our problem. It has been accounted for."

He lifted his head, then pointed. "There! That spire!" He flicked into their tac-mesh and called out, "Gunners, bring it down!" The crew all gripped their perches firmly as the Skiff's cannons opened up, hitting the tower with a flurry of Shock blasts. It wobbled, creaking, before the spike of antennae at the top snapped off and plunged downward, piercing a Walker below. Its explosion shook the base of the comm-spire and it cracked apart, its pieces tumbling to the ground, scattering Fallen below.

The crew let out a collective howl of triumph, but Tethiks raised a hand. "Hold!" he warned them. "Now we wait for-" He paused as a hatch in one of the Fallen structures opened, disgorging a squadron of Pain forces, all of which stood around a glowing High Servitor. Even with the rainstorm's winds buffeting the Skiff, Tethiks could hear the Servitor's angry warbling drone. It blinked closer to the wrecked spire, its eye examining the wreckage.

Then there was a sudden flash in the air, and the crew saw the ionized trail in the air. The High Servitor rocked backward, its shield shattering, and then a flicker-flash as another three Wire Rifle filaments penetrated the automaton's eye. It let out an angry bellow before a burst of Arc Energy blew out the optic. Its casing cracked and it spun disoriented in the air, spilling ether. Another Wire Rifle salvo caught it, and it finally exploded. The Pain forces nearby gaped at this before shrieking in rage.

The Captain purred, clicking his mandibles together. Over the tac-mesh, he heard the flat command come forth: "Lakonis to all Gears Eliksni- if they want pain, let's give them some." Tethiks and his crew dropped from their deployment chutes with a howl, falling upon the traitors below.

* * *

Around Nemak, the hospital complex was burning. She strode confidently, clutching her staff of office close as she moved. Occasionally, one of the _hosh'ir_ guards would accost her, but her shields withstood their initial attacks long enough for her to skewer them with the hidden stiletto in her staff, then hurl them to the floor as she moved onward. She paused as she came to a hatch that refused to open before her.

Beside her, the air shimmered before a hooded Fallen bowed respectfully. "My Archon, our Skiffs are interdicted. The Reef Folk are cutting off our avenues of escape."

Nemak merely nodded. "We anticipated this. Some of our Infiltrators should be in place to disable the interdiction fields." She tapped the end of her staff on the floor as her other set of hands worked to hack through the locked door's controls. "In the meantime, find any _Lo-vos ko_ wretches here. Offer them a place in our House, if they will take it. If they will not..." She made a chopping motion through the air with her spare hand.

"It will be done, my Archon." The Infiltrator bowed again and drew their hooded cape around themselves as they vanished from view again. Nemak merely strode onward as the hatch opened ahead of her at last. She came to a walkway overlooking a plaza below. Two _hosh'ir_ leveled rifles at her from either end of the walkway, and she snapped out a pair of pistols with her metal hands, shooting them both before they could fire. She vaulted over the railing and blinked to the ground below.

It wasn't far from Aulus Medical to the Vestian Outpost. Nemak paused as it came into sight, then consulted the map on her gauntlet. Rather than plunge onward toward the spacedock, she turned down a side corridor, eyeing the House Judgment sigils as she passed. This way led to the chambers commanded by the treacherous scribe Variks, and somewhere in here, he had control over the Warden of the Prison of Elders...

As she followed the signals on her gauntlet's technics, the Archon came across a door emblazoned with the sigil of the House of Judgment, along with other markings she knew well. This was it. The Warden's control chamber. Once she got inside, she could free the Prison's denizens and give the Reef Folk something to keep them busy while she and hers escaped in the chaos-

"Archon Nemak." She turned to see Variks behind her in the corridor, leaning on his own staff. The old scribe shook his head slowly. "You will not escape. You have betrayed a flag of truce."

Nemak snarled at him. "Variks the Oath-breaker speaks to _me_ of betrayal?"

Variks simply looked back at her. "You have broken your own oaths to your Kell. You have no right to take offense to my words."

She rattled her mandibles, drawing herself up to her full height, towering over him. With a twist of her staff, a blade unfolded at the upper end, gleaming with Shock energy. "Semakis was weak. Unfit to lead House Gears. I have sworn oaths to a new Kell, I serve a new House, a House of strength." She hissed at him. "Not that a wizened wretch like you would understand such things. You were too weak to stomach serving a Kell strong enough to do what needed to be done, so you betrayed him. And you were too weak to lead yourself, so you bowed to the _Hosh'ir_ and call their Queen your Kell."

She thrust the polearm at him, but he suddenly moved with surprising speed, sidestepping the lunge, one hand gripping the shaft and shoving it aside as he stepped in close and brought his own staff to bear. the blunt tip striking her in the throat. As she choked and sputtered, he stepped back, then swept his staff around, scything her legs out from under her. She landed heavily on the floor, and with another thrust of his staff, he cracked the seal on her ether tank. She scrambled to try to cap it, but he suddenly crouched atop her, his knife out and at her throat.

She froze, polearm falling from her hands as she held them out in surrender. Variks hissed at her. "If I were weak, I would not have survived in company of Wolves. If I were weak, I would not have survived to my age." He snarled, rattling his mandibles. "For your crimes, I would have you executed, but..." She saw his eyes narrow and imagined the pleased expression beneath his own ether mask, "...that is not my judgment to make."

Shouts filled the corridor, and Nemak saw _hosh'ir_ guards rush up to them, accompanied by three of the _Lo-vos ko_. They trained their guns on her as Variks rose, sheathing his knife. "You wanted to see the Prison of Elders, Archon Nemak? Then you shall."

* * *

Tethiks ran his eyes over the massed ranks of the House of Pain forces they'd captured. With the destruction of the High Servitor and their main comm-spire, the traitorous Fallen had not been prepared for the loyalists' blitz attack. The Captain preened slightly at that. He had earned the sobriquet 'The Swift' not just because of his own agility. Once his forces had taken the high ground and picked off some of the Pain's leadership, the remainder had quickly surrendered. Their weapons were stacked under an energy shield, and the Eliksni themselves were hunched under the guns of the loyalists. The Captain nodded in satisfaction and made a note to request an extra share of ether for his crew for a job well done.

He looked up as a Gears Pike trundled into the conquered encampment. As with most Gears equipment, it had been modified, in this case to carry a passenger. A dreg piloted the vehicle, while the grizzled form of Baron Lakonis rode behind him, cradling his modified Wire Rifle in one set of arms. As the Pike slowed, Lakonis smoothly stepped off and approached Tethiks, who clasped fists to chest in salute. "My Baron. We've taken the surface camp." He twitched his head to the larger ruin further on, the great building with its collapsed dome. It had once been the seat of some old _She'lot_ government, the computers they'd salvaged had told them. As one, Tethiks and Lakonis turned to look at the shattered Capitol building.

"After we took the camp," Tethiks told him, "the rest of their forces withdrew inside and below. We've already hacked their tac-mesh and have secured control over their Shanks and automata. Only Heavy Shanks and Servitors still in their control." He indicated overhead, where more Gears Skiffs were dropping from cloud cover. "Our Skiffs can bombard them from above, but the longer we leave them inside, the more time they'll have to seize the _She'lot_ world-enders."

Lakonis merely nodded as he surveyed all this with a sweep of his head, then a prolonged glance at his gauntlet. "Bring in the High Servitors from my Ketch. They should buy us time to storm the bunkers." He looked to Tethiks. "Do we know who is commanding the forces here?"

The Captain shook his head. "Nothing yet to confirm anything, but if the Gears here went to his banner, then Morsik would have left Yakris in command."

Lakonis grunted. "Yakris does not have the stomach to withstand a siege." He drummed his dactyls on the stock of his rifle. "Where is the mole who helped us?"

Tethiks turned and signaled to his crew. Two vandals escorted over a dreg. The poor wretch had been put through it, by the looks of him. Both eyes on one side of his head were swollen shut, and ichor dripped from one mandible. He limped slightly as he was brought before the Quiet Baron, and then the dreg bowed his head, giving a salute. "My Baron," he rasped. "Thank you for your mercy."

Lakonis grunted again. "Why should I trust you, whelp? Turncoat twice over."

The dreg lifted his head and looked at him. "I have seen her," he replied. "Adresiks Reborn, the First Eliksni to receive the Blessing of the Great Machine!" He bowed his head again. "The Baroness Feniks!"

Tethiks blinked once. "Feniks lives?!" He looked to Lakonis and saw the lack of surprise on the old sniper's face. "...you knew this?"

"We live in interesting times," was all the Quiet Baron said to this. He nodded to the dreg. "What is your name?"

"Wekis, my Baron!"

Lakonis nodded. "As of now, you're under my personal command. I want you where I can keep an eye on you." He turned to Tethiks. "We'll talk later, but for now, we have to drive the House of Pain out of those bunkers."

* * *

At Bannerfall, the battle was underway. The Guardians had all split up when the Ketch's cannons started to track on them, and then the black-clad Fallen had descended upon the arena. The first enemy squad to deploy had chased after the fleeing form of Shaman-9, who vaulted over Raayi Enne, who raised her sniper rifle and sent the Captain in the lead to the Hereafter. As the Fallen's head exploded into ichor and ether, there was a flash of light and a concussive blast, which left the rest of the enemy squad dazed and stunned. Shaman then vaulted back over Enne and drew his sword, dashing down the aisle and carving through them.

Another squad paused near the 'mohawk,' looking for the _Sha'ir_ , then froze as they saw an imposing soldier who threw back his head and laughed as he racked a round into his shotgun. The Fallen knew of the Laughing Titan, and they backed away as he advanced, lightning already coursing along his arms. The Titan merely laughed louder, and the reason for his amusement became clear as Baez leapt down from a balcony, smashing into the ground with a Fist of Havoc, scattering the Fallen into crackling ash.

Wahei led yet another squad into one of the interior spaces in the arena, where the lights had been cut off. This lack of illumination did not deter the Fallen, who were accustomed to the shadows, but then they saw a set of amber eyes open, and heard the shriek of the Sawtooth Swordbow. With cries of alarm, the Fallen poured back out into the open, with Feniks stalking out after them. With a snarl, she let the Light smolder along her arms and glint off the spinning blades of the chainsaw. The squad's Captain finally lunged toward her, but she caught his sword with one of her own, then plunged the Sawtooth into his chest. With a fading howl, the Captain fell, his carcass a burning ruin.

And so the battle went. The attacking Fallen barely stood a chance against eight Guardians, seven of whom had cut their teeth fighting the Fallen over the centuries. And Feniks was no stranger to having to fight other Eliksni, else she would never have attained the rank she held. It helped also that the sight of her wielding the Light had terrified the attacking forces. The Ketch still hung overhead, but its armaments were now turning to face the incoming Civic Defense fighters, and so could not bring their firepower to bear on the Guardians.

Feniks paused after cutting down a recalcitrant vandal with her swords, looking up at the now-exposed embarkation deck. While plenty of House of Pain forces were leaping down from it, she saw three of a size that pegged them as leaders. But as she got a better look at two of them, she saw the banners they wore. She flicked into the tac-channel the Guardians were using. "I have spotted leaders of assault. One Pain High Captain and two mercenaries of House Scars." She looked up at the three, raising the Scrap Magnet and lobbing a spiked ball toward them. En route, one of the Scars snapped his cannon up and blasted it out of the air. Both he and the Pain High Captain raised arms to deflect shrapnel from its explosion, but the other Scar continued to watch without flinching.

"I hear you," Baez said on the tac-channel. "I see them, too. They're not joining in."

Shaman-9 made a grunting sound. "They're smart. Getting the measure of us before attacking."

"House Scars has survived long, they have cunning," Feniks agreed. She lingered at her perch to bombard a few more enemy squads with Scrap Magnet bombs.

"Enemy, plus-thirty high!" This outburst came from her rust-red Ghost, and Feniks snapped her head to her right and above her around to see a Pain vandal lining up a Wire Rifle on her. She snarled at him, then scuttled aside, toggling the Magnet back to standard fire mode, discharging a few sprays of shrapnel in his direction before dropping to the floor again. She checked her surroundings, then looked at the Ghost, who bobbed in the air to her. "You weren't paying attention to your surroundings again," it admonished her.

"You are a blessing," she told it. "I thank you." She flicked into the tac-channel again. "Awoken Sniper, can you get a shot on the leaders?"

"Hmm," Enne muttered, "been trying. If someone could keep the bugs off my back, I could try to line up on one of them."

"On it," Wahei piped up. "Me and Shaman can occupy the Fallen."

"Bolvan and I can work the perimeter of the arena," Baez added. "Aurelio, you and Rhodes patrol the interior and drive them toward us. Baroness, think you can help with that?"

"Yes, yes," she agreed. "On the way."

* * *

On the Ketch's embarkation deck, Larnis frowned as he tallied his losses. He knew they were going to be great, but the _Sha'ir_ were stinging faster than he had calculated. At this rate, he'd be lucky if he had the numbers to crew the ketch on their retreat. He glanced aside at the two mercenaries on the deck nearby, and amended this to: if he was _allowed_ to retreat.

The two Scars mercenaries had fallen into speaking to one another in a patois that Larnis couldn't follow. While the Eliksni Houses all spoke one common tongue, individual Houses had been known to develop a dialect and structure of their own for it. It was clear to Larnis that the House of Scars had constructed such a cant for themselves. It made sense, if he thought about it; as mercenaries that hired themselves out, having a private language to use for tac-comms would be ideal.

Finally, Skarris seemed to notice that he was trying to listen in, and the Deathless one switched to standard Eliksni. "It would appear that Baroness Feniks is indeed alive." The mercenary tilted his head. "And wields the Light."

Larnis shook his head. "Strange times... an Eliksni with the Light of the _Sha'ir_?"

Marrdis rasped a snarl. "Think the _She'lot_ gave her the Blessing?"

But the lead mercenary rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "It matters not." He looked to his fellow mercenary and switched back to Scar-cant. The two had a brief exchange before Marrdis flicked into the ketch's comm-net and sent a command along to the small squad the Kell himself had detached to them. Then the two resumed watching the battle below them.

To say that Larnis was suspicious was putting it mildly. He didn't like this suicide mission, even if it was to eliminate the Baroness as a potential rallying figure for the Gears loyalists. And he didn't trust the Scars mercenaries. During the flight from the House of Pain main base to the City That Docks, the Scars had been either silent or short and direct in their communications with each other. That they were now using Scar-cant suggested something else was afoot, and Larnis didn't like being out of the loop.

He turned his glare back to the battlefield and then blinked as he saw something. He squinted at the tree adorning the center of one of the plazas below. There was some irregular shape in there... It came to him in a flash, and he barked out, "Sniper!"

The first shot came milliseconds later, and it was only his turning to call this out that saved his life. He felt the round score a groove in the side of his neck, and he lurched over backward as hot ichor spilled down his neck. Marrdis brandished his Scorch Cannon and began firing toward them. But he was knocked backward as a second shot cracked the pauldron of his armor.

Skarris had not moved throughout all this, even when the third shot came and caromed off one of the flanges of his helmet. He merely watched as the redoubled efforts of the Guardians below drove the desperate Pain fighters back. And, while Larnis tried to staunch the bleeding in his neck, the mercenary leader drew forth his Wire Rifle and began to sight on the chaos below.

* * *

Fallen were blasted away as Rhodes-6 called down the lightning around him as he entered a Stormtrance. Hovering above the ground, he floated in a circle around Enne's sniper perch, electricity dancing from his fingertips and driving the attackers back. There were less and less of them now. Even the two Strikers had closed in from the arena perimeter as they drove the last remnants inward. A Captain lunged toward his back, but the Voidwalker Wahei intercepted him, slamming a palm into his shields and draining them before snapping her rifle up and blasting a hole through his neck. Shaman-9 parried a vandal's sword and quick-drew his hand cannon to blast it back as well.

Around the back of the tree, Feniks swept the Sawtooth through another attacker, cutting them down and ducking to let Aurelio hurl a Hammer of Sol into the wave behind them. As the last attackers drew back and brandished their weapons with roars of frustration, the Baroness howled back at them, revving the engine on her chainsaw.

"I need a better perch!" Enne complained. "I can't get a clean kill-shot on them-" She broke off, then gasped. "Counter-sniper-!"

The crack of the Wire Rifle caught their ears, and they looked up to see the ionized trail from the ketch. Enne dropped out of the tree, but she landed on her feet, even if she then dropped to a crouch, clutching at her shoulder. "Cheeky bastard," she muttered.

What happened next happened almost too quickly for everyone to comprehend until afterward. Rhodes-6 came out of his Stormtrance, blinking as the Arc faded from him. "...Raayi?" he asked, blearily, turning toward her in bewilderment. Aurelio looked up at the ketch, then at his two teammates. One injured, the other left off-balance after coming out of his battle-trance. The other Guardians all keeping their weapons trained on the remaining House of Pain forces.

The Sunbreaker moved, flinging his body in front of Raayi Enne and Rhodes, a Hammer of Sol _clang_ ing into his hand as he wound up to throw it toward the ketch. The next shot from the Wire Rifle pierced straight through his shields and caught him in the head, his arm dropping to his side as he rocked backward. Another shot came shortly after and joined its fellow in Aurelio's skull, and the Hammer fell from his fingers, vanishing into nothingness as he toppled.

Baez turned as his Ghost cried out, "Guardian down!" The Eternal Warrior saw his blood brother collapse to the ground. "...'Relio?"

The young Titan's Ghost popped into view above his body, its shell opening up as the Light began to shine. "Hold still, I got this-"

Another crack from the Wire Rifle, and the spread facets of the Ghost's shell clattered to the ground as the blessed machine's spherical core was sniped out of the air. The Light flashed once and then was gone from around it. Baez let out a scream of rage, swinging the Thunderlord from covering the enemy nearby to aim it toward the ketch, as the famed gun sang its song of fury.

* * *

Marrdis grunted as he rotated his injured shoulder, squinting at the scene below. "You missed," the mercenary grumbled to his partner. "We were supposed to kill the Baroness."

Skarris lowered his Wire Rifle and slotted a fresh clip into the hopper. "I'm not finished yet," was all he said, priming the capacitor and lining up a sight line again.

Then Larnis was on his feet. He knocked the rifle off-sight, snarling at the mercenary. "Are you insane?!" the High Captain demanded. "We don't have the numbers to take them down now! Not if we want to be able to escape!"

The mercenary leader just looked at him without a change of expression. Then he glanced aside at Marrdis, speaking in Scar-cant, but Larnis shook him. "If you're going to talk strategy, you're going to include me in it, damn you!"

Skarris just stared at him, before switching to standard Eliksni as he addressed his partner. "Is he right?"

Marrdis consulted his technics and did the calculations. "Hnn. Yes. We have just enough on board the ketch to crew it to return to base." He glanced up as the ketch shook, some of the Civic Defense fighters beginning their attack runs at last. "Crew it and man guns, too," he added.

"Hnn," Skarris echoed, looking at the scene below. "We truly cannot spare any more?" And as he said this, he looked at Larnis, who suspected that there was a lot more that had been communicated between the two Scars before he forced them into speaking the common tongue.

Marrdis clicked his mandibles. "We can afford to lose one more."

Skarris nodded at this. "Thank you." And Larnis grunted as the mercenary's knife buried itself in his stomach. The Deathless one drew it back, then shoved Larnis off the embarkation deck. With one last nod, he declared, "Take us out of here. Set course for the Kell of Pain's stronghold."

* * *

 **Afterward:**

Eliksni translations:

 _Hosh'ir_. Fear (of) Light. Fallen term for Awoken.

 _Lo-vos ko_. Wolves bow. i.e. "Wolves That Bowed." House of Wolves that returned to Reef's service.

I freely admit to making these terms up. Until and unless we get some more translations of Fallen-speak from _Destiny 2_ , I have to make up terms from the vocabulary we've received so far.


	21. Grimoires III

**Chapter 21: Grimoires III  
**

* * *

 **Baez**  
 _"When darkness fell upon us, our Light shone that much stronger."_

When green fire fell upon the amassed host of Guardians at Mare Imbrium, the survivors of that great disaster were forever changed. Some were broken by the experience, their Light diminished and traumatized. Some, like Eriana-3, became obsessed with vengeance for their slain brethren. And others were hardened and merely became that much more fearsome on the plains of battle. Baez falls into this last category.

After centuries exploring the wilds and securing the safety of mankind's settlements, Baez earned himself the reputation as "the Eternal Warrior," protecting settlers and villages against Fallen attacks, and distinguishing himself in the Battles of Six Fronts and the Twilight Gap. When the threat of the Hive emerged on Luna, he was one of the Guardian Host that marched to meet the army of Crota, and one of the few people to emerge alive from that great disaster. Stories tell that he was the Titan who created the first Thunderlord, though Baez has denied these claims, merely stating, "I didn't write the song, but I will see it gets sung until my Light goes out."

Since then, Baez has continued to stand steadfast in defense of the City against the threats of the Fallen and Hive, and the stern visage of the Eternal Warrior is known to send foes fleeing before it.

* * *

 **Nemak, Archon of Pain**  
 _"Ours is a house of strength. Our resolve has been sharpened by pain."_

Nemak once served Kell Semakis as the Archon for House Gears, acting as the caretaker of Gresiks Prime and liaison with the splicer faction within the House. Initially opposed to Semakis' peace talks with the City, Nemak threw her support behind his plan, but this was later revealed to have been a ruse. The Archon secretly defected to Morsik's break-away faction and joined his new House.

Her strategic skill and personnel management capabilities meant she oversaw the integration of the House of Pain's recruits into their forces. She also commands the loyalty of the spies and saboteurs known as the Pain Infiltrators, and devised the scheme to preoccupy the Reef with their attack on the Vestian Outpost. The intent was to tie up the Reef's resources with responding to the chaos of the attack and dealing with the casualties there, rather than lend aid to the City.

However, Nemak may have underestimated the Reef's resilience and in particular the tenacity of Variks, who anticipated the deception and was able to quickly muster the Reef Guard to their defense.

* * *

 **Fare Thee Well**  
 _With a kiss of the Arc, I bid you goodbye._

Baron Lakonis of the Fallen House of Gears personally modified this Wire Rifle, and these modifications have only added to his renown as one of the greatest snipers in the history of the Eliksni. With over twice the effective range of a standard Fallen Wire Rifle, a standard shot from Lakonis' rifle can rip through standard energy shielding as if it weren't there. But it is when he switches it to burst-fire that it becomes especially dangerous.

Firing three wire-shards in quick succession, the Fare Thee Well links these in a field of Arc energy. After impacting with their target, the shards' charge erupts in an electrical explosion, tearing through armor and flesh alike. The Quiet Baron has used this weapon to bid goodbye to many an enemy of the House of Gears.

* * *

 **Crucible Arena: Monument Mall**  
 _"Bask in the glory of ages old, that one day we might bask in the glory of your deeds."_

ARENA DESIGNATION: Monument Mall  
LOCATION: Old Columbian Ruins, Earth

Once, this city was the center of democracy, and this open plain was ringed with memorials and museums, paying tribute to heroes and histories past. In the wake of the Collapse, it was occupied and plundered by the Fallen House of Gears, though under the leadership of Kell Semakis, much of the artifacts in the old museums were left alone, believing there was little to be scavenged from them, and having a respect for the people of Earth despite his race's animosity toward them.

That all changed in Morsik's uprising. His new House has taken over the ruins of this city and has set them to plunder it anew, while constructing fortifications to further entrench their position. His hatred of humanity has driven him to eradicate their past as well, and City archivists have wept to hear of the loss of such priceless knowledge.

Morsik's break-aways continue to battle with Gears loyalists elsewhere in the ruins, but already this plain and the structures around it have been claimed for the Crucible by City forces backed up by the Redjacks.

* * *

 **Skarris, the Deathless**  
 _The tech-priests once asked if Skarris felt anything when he shot the defenseless. And he replied, "Recoil."_

One of the most feared House of Scars mercenaries, and an escapee of the Prison of Elders, no one knows how many times Skarris has cheated death. Rumors and stories surround his remarkable resiliency. That he survived the destruction of Ceres. That he walked out of the Twilight Gap. That he was burned in the fall of London. That he has cheated death so many times because there is no soul left inside of him.

Regardless of how much of that is true, Skarris had taken payment from Skolas during the Reef Wars and carried out attacks on civilian locations, and showed no remorse at his sentencing by House Judgment. He was sentenced to the Prison of Elders, but when the Awoken leadership mobilized to respond to the threat of Oryx, Skarris and his band of Scars mercenaries managed to escape and return to their ketch. When the Reef Guard tried to stop them, Skarris aimed his cannons at civilian targets, forcing the Guard to withdraw and enabling him to get away.

It is this cold, heartless nature that has driven him to accept payment from Morsik. The mad Kell wants to burn the world. And only someone as soulless as Skarris would agree to that.

* * *

 **Ghost Fragment: The Fallen Kell**

TYPE: Transcript.  
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.  
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Awoken-type, Regent [u.1]; One [1] Fallen-type, Scribe [u.2]  
ASSOCIATIONS: Vestian Outpost [Reef]; Aulus Medical [Reef]; Reef; Fallen; Eliksni; House Judgment; House Gears; Break-aways; House of Pain; Venj, Petra; Variks; Nemak; Semakis, Morsik

/AUDIO UNAVAILABLE/  
/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS/

[u.1:0.1] Has she spoken yet?

[u.2:0.1] Nothing of worth.

[u.1:0.2] What of her spies?

[u.2:0.2] All killed or captured. Captives for Prison of Elders?

[u.1:0.3] For now. When His Excellency returns, he'll probably order their execution. Hers, too.

[pause]

[u.2:0.3] She should go into Prison of Elders.

[u.1:0.4] Not much point. For everything she's done, she deserves execution.

[u.2:0.4] I am not disagreeing, but I captured her trying to start prison break.

[muffled curse]

[u.2:0.5] _Yesss._

[u.1:0.5] We're still cleaning up the mess after the last one. There's worse than Skarris still locked up in there.

[u.2:0.6] Yes, yes. And there are other reasons to keep her alive.

[u.1:0.6] Such as?

[u.2:0.7] Feniks.

[pause]

[u.1:0.7] You make a solid point. She did murder her Kell.

[u.2:0.8] ... _yes_.

[pause]

[u.1:0.8] Where is the body?

[u.2:0.9] My people are caring for it. He was not our Kell, but his people will come to collect it.

[u.1:0.9] Have you sent word to her or the rest of House Gears?

[u.2:1.0] Cannot raise House Gears. Sent word to City Vanguard. They will notify her.

[u.1:1.0] If I don't see her when she comes for him, offer her my condolences.


	22. Yarra, Yarra, Yarra

**Chapter 22: Yarra, Yarra, Yarra  
**

* * *

To the average citizen of the Last City, a Guardian was larger than life. Indomitable, stoic defenders of the Wall, capable of striking down with the fury of lightning and the heat of the sun. Fearless, daring scouts that braved the untamed wilds outside the Wall, taking the fight to mankind's various enemies. Aloof scholars that explored the breadth of human knowledge and even delved into things that a mortal mind weren't prepared to accept.

Most citizens only saw their Guardians on Crucible broadcasts. But even these only showed how cavalier Guardians were to death, reacting with annoyance to a quick down or aggravation to repeated ones. And the citizens had seen the Warband climb the Crucible ranks and dominate the field, working with brisk efficiency and a sort of cold pride. When seen without his iconic helmet, Baez seemed like a man who simply accepted the accolades bestowed upon him, with little need to show his emotions.

Thus, to the citizens watching the battle at Bannerfall taking place, seeing his reaction at the final death of Aurelio was terrifying. Hearing the roars bellowing out of the otherwise stoic visage of the Eternal Warrior, seeing the Arc crackling from him as he charged toward the place where the ketch hung overhead, even as the Fallen vessel withdrew, vanishing into jumpspace with a rush of displaced air. The Thunderlord sang as Baez turned it upon his surroundings, mindlessly seeking a target for his rage.

When the machine gun ran dry, Baez swung back around, and met Sergei Bolvan's fist coming the other way. The blow wasn't full-force, but it was enough to check the grizzled Striker, who rocked back on his boot heels. Baez blinked at the other Titan, who clapped him on both shoulders, meeting his gaze silently and giving a nod. After a moment, the elder of the two collapsed against Sergei, who propped him up as he began to sob.

They turned as they heard a rasping growl. Slumped against a wall was one of the House of Pain, ichor spilling from a vicious wound in its stomach. As they saw it, it struggled to get to its feet, but then it thumped back against the wall with a hiss. It wore the more ornate armor and cape of a Captain, but a distinguished one. It looked from them to its shock rifle, which lay a good distance away, and this mere glance was enough for Sergei to draw forth his shotgun, leveling it toward the bleeding foe.

But before he could pull the trigger, Feniks was there, lashing out with a foot, kicking the enemy Fallen across the face. She was snarling in Fallen-speak at it, raising her weapon, the Sawtooth shrieking. The Pain Captain raised its hands in surrender, barking back at her in the same language, but this seemed to hurt it, as it soon dropped both lower hands to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. It took a rasping breath, then drew its knife and held it up toward her, handle-first.

This caused her to pause, and the Baroness let the chainsaw slow to a halt. She spoke again to the enemy Captain, who nodded once, responding in kind, and then offered up the knife again. She hissed at something, then snatched the knife away from it. She thrust this into her belt, then drew her sword, brandishing it as she spoke again, in a more firm tone.

Sergei looked bemused, but before he could ask, Feniks' rust-red Ghost flitted up. "She recognizes him," it explained. "High Captain Larnis, formerly of House Gears." It looked at Feniks, as she finished speaking, and then the Ghost translated, "She has just formally accepted his surrender. He wanted her to kill him, but she has refused." It looked at the enemy captain, then opined, "Not much point, if you ask me- he's gonna bleed out soon."

Then Feniks sheathed her sword, raising a hand and letting sunfire bloom around her dactyls. She regarded this for a moment, then crouched down and pried his hands away from his injury. Once it was exposed, she thrust the flaming palm against his abdomen. Larnis let out a howl of agony, thrashing against the wall, but she held firm, then pulled her hand back. His stomach was burned, but the wound had been cauterized. He lay back, chest heaving, breath wheezing through his mask, and the Baroness hissed something at him. The Guardians did not speak her language, and the Ghost did not provide a translation, but they could hear the venom in her tone and they could guess her meaning. _This is better than you deserve._

* * *

Back at the Tower, Aurelio had been laid upon a slab, hands clasped on his chest. His cracked helmet remained on, no one daring to remove it to reveal the grievous wound that had killed him. To either side of him lay his auto-rifle and shotgun, stripped of their magazines. The Titan's armor had been cleaned of ichor and the other stains of battle. Ranks of Guardians and civilians stood silently as Baez and the other members of the Warband stood around the slab, arms linked as they looked down at their fallen comrade.

At some unspoken moment, the Warband stepped back, breaking their stance, and Baez ran his hands back through his grizzled mane of hair and through his beard, taking a deep breath as he steadied himself, trying to keep the sorrow from overwhelming him again. He finally spoke, quietly, but firmly enough that his words could be heard throughout the hall.

"Aurelio. When I claimed you as my brother, I swore to help you become the strongest Guardian you could be. I swore to fight alongside you for as long as our Light still shone. And I swore that I would never let your final death come for you." He stopped, fighting back tears. "I failed you, brother."

He hung his head, marshaling his thoughts again, before continuing, "But you were one of the bravest Titans I've seen since Luna, brother. It didn't matter what monsters came boiling out of the Darkness to face us, you never retreated, you stood your ground and you fought them back with the fury of the Unconquered Sun." He stood to his full height and declared, "I'll see the Sunbreakers add your name to the ranks of their hallowed dead. And I swear this final thing for you, brother- Your name will be sung in the hymn of the Thunderlord. For as long as a Guardian's name is spoken, their Light will never go out."

Baez clapped his fist over his chest with a ringing sound, which echoed all the louder when all Guardians present repeated the gesture, and the air filled also with the sussuration of their various spoken equivalents of _amen._

Then another silence fell, a much chillier one, as Feniks stepped into the hall, flanked by Shaman-9 and Wahei Ohr. She held a bundle of cloth in one hand, and as the Guardians watched, she reached up to remove her mask and headdress. Blinking her glowing amber eyes, she regarded the ranks of her race's eternal enemies, then looked to Baez, then at the body on the slab. She slowly approached it, then picked up Aurelio's crimson Titan Mark, which had been folded beside him. She laid this out across his chest before unwrapping the bundle in her hands.

Baez drew in a breath as he saw that the Baroness had gathered the scattered, broken facets of Aurelio's dead Ghost, along with its inert core. She carefully arranged these atop Aurelio's mark, and then took out a Fallen knife- the same knife she'd taken off of Larnis. She placed this with the rest of the trinkets, looked briefly to her Ghost, before beginning to intone in Fallen-speak. Her rust-red Ghost translated for those present.

"Aurelio, once of House Guardians, now of None. Once, we might have been foes. Locked in an endless war between our peoples. You rose high in esteem, flying banner of New-Kelldom, earning marks and treasures, passing your trials with honor, even as our races were locked in war and hate."

She lowered her head solemnly. "Now you go where there is no war. Where there is no hate." She placed two palms, flesh and metal, on his chest. " _Yarra_. Go now to find your place in the Land of Endless Light. _Yarra_. May the Great Machine guide you through the Calm Lands to the House of Eternity. _Yarra_. Gone, not forgotten. _Yarra yarra yarra._ "

She stood back, sweeping all four of her arms in a wide, circular gesture, then bowed over the slab. She gathered the remains of the dead Ghost up and bundled them back into the cloth- a House of Pain banner- as well as the Fallen knife. She turned to Baez, holding the bundle and trophy out to him. The Eternal Warrior looked bewildered for a moment, before bowing his head and accepting them.

Feniks turned to the rest of the hall, seeing the Guardians and workers staring at her. She spoke, shifting back to human-speak. "We fought together. He died defending his crew. Such things demand respect, yes?"

Baez opened his mouth, stopped himself, then closed it with a nod. "I thank you, Baroness." He looked down at the black-cloth bundle in his hands, and his face hardened. "Where is the prisoner?"

Shaman-9 spoke. "On my ship, under guard from Redjacks and the rest of our team, but he's not in any condition to fight or escape. He was dying before Feniks seared that wound shut, and I don't know if there's any internal bleeding."

Baez growled, "I can put him out of his misery real quick-"

"No." Feniks shook her head. "Larnis was highly-placed in House of Pain's ranks. Commanded ketch. Will have information for us. Have given him medicated ether. Enough so he can answer questions, but not enough to restore strength."

"Leave the questioning of the prisoner to me." They turned as Ikora Rey entered the hall, the rest of the Vanguard accompanying her. Commander Zavala went to Baez and put a hand on his shoulder, commiserating as one veteran to another. The Warlock Vanguard looked to Feniks and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for capturing one of them alive, Baroness. You have my assurances that we'll do our best to keep him alive so he can face justice for his betrayal of your House."

Feniks rattled her mandibles. "Despite what his upstart House thinks, my Kell is not soft, and he _will_ see him executed for this."

Ikora pursed her lips briefly, then nodded. "Yes. About your Kell, Baroness..." She paused, ever so briefly, before continuing. "We've just gotten word from Variks at the Reef." She met her gaze sadly. "There was an attack. Your Kell is dead."

* * *

It was Baez who lent them his ship as they sped to the Reef. With Shaman-9's ship serving as a makeshift prison cell for the captured Larnis, only the old Striker's ship was big enough to contain the party heading for the asteroid belt. To allow Baez more time to get his mind straight, his teammate Rhodes-6 was piloting the ship. The rest of the party- Baez, Wahei Ohr, Sergei Bolvan, Raayi Enne, Shaman-9, and of course Baroness Feniks- were seated around the main hold, in various states of contemplation.

Shaman regarded the Guardians with him. Sergei had sat with Baez, speaking with him in quiet tones. He could hear the boisterous Titan trying to cheer up the elder veteran, recounting some of the glories they had individually won. Shaman occasionally saw Baez's lips twitch or exhale a brief chuckle, but it seemed not even the Laughing Titan could boost his morale. The Warlock felt he could understand this. Baez had been present at many of mankind's most significant battles, from Six Fronts to Twilight Gap to the horrific Battle of Mare Imbrium, and had probably lost count of how many fellow Guardians he'd seen fall. He didn't know how close Baez had been to most of them, but Aurelio had been his blood-brother. That had to be much worse.

In one corner of the hold, Raayi had disassembled her sniper rifle, giving each piece a meticulous cleaning and polishing. All the while as she did, her Ghost was speaking to her. As he listened, Shaman realized that the Ghost Spark was dictating numerical distances and environmental details. And when Spark paused, Raayi spoke back to it, reciting angles of trajectory and critical impact points on specific targets. Shaman nodded to himself. While his teammate didn't speak, he knew that Yurei could do similar calculations at will and with the same detached professionalism.

He next considered his fellow Warlock, Wahei. The Voidwalker was sat cross-legged on a crate, in a stance of meditation. With her legs folded in front of her, she had taken out her Warlock journal and laid it open in her lap to an empty page. In one hand, she held a stylus, which moved in loops and curves. Craning his neck, he saw little meaning in what she was writing or drawing. But he accepted this. Voidwalkers were strange, even to other Warlocks, and automatic writing exercises such as this were not uncommon. They claimed there was meaning in the shapes and forms their hands constructed while meditating. Shaman wondered what Wahei was seeing in the Void, and then decided it best not to ask.

It was the Baroness that concerned him. When Ikora had told her the news from the Reef concerning Semakis' death, Feniks had gone utterly still, the light in her eyes dimming. The assembled Guardians in the hall had watched her warily, expecting an eruption of fury or some other violent reaction. But after several moments, she'd started to walk away, slowly, as if in a daze. When her rust-red Ghost had tried to speak to her, Feniks had just hissed something at it, and it had fallen silent, rebuked. She'd turned to Shaman, then, and asked to use his ship. Zavala had said that Larnis was being held there, so Baez had offered his. Feniks had simply nodded and had not spoken to anyone since. She crouched in one one corner now, eschewing conversation with anyone. That she was holding one of her swords- those symbols of authority in her House- in her hands encouraged everyone to keep their distance.

Feniks sat generally motionless in that corner, occasionally running one dactyl or another along the flat of her sword, or the connected circle-and-gear sigil or her House, or along the wire wraps twined around the sword's grip. Every Captain received two when they were promoted. These were symbolic of their rising above the mere dregs and vandals of their race, who only had their knives. But a Captain's swords were simple things, hammered out easily by the forges and smiths. A Baron carried more ornate ones. In the House of Gears, the bell guards were stamped with the House sigil, and in time, may bear glyphs denoting their accolades.

Her swords had once belonged to Baron Parsiliks, that snake who had loyally served the old Gears Kell, Chaksis. After Semakis had slain the old Kell and claimed the throne for himself, Parsiliks had stepped up to challenge him...

* * *

Parsiliks' fury echoed about the regal auditorium in the Palace of Gears. Semakis sat in the throne, holding the Kell's swords in two hands, and at his feet sat Chaksis' helmet and headdress, still on his severed head. Arrayed to either side of his throne were his personal guard, those Captains he had raised up and from whom he received his tribute. Feniks had been among them, and she watched as the old Baron bulled his way through the assembled ranks of the House of Gears who filled the grand chamber. Already the Eliksni in the chamber were backing away, scuttling up walls as necessary, to clear space.

"Disloyal wretches such as you should be cast screaming into the Whirlwind!" Parsiliks declared as he drew his swords. "Chaksis was the making of you, whelp!"

"He was," Semakis agreed. "As he was for you, old teacher. But you as well as I know that his best days were behind him. The Cunning Kell was not so cunning anymore." He rose in a sudden, sharp movement, looking down at him from the throne. "Will you deny this?

His response was a growl and a twitch of the head, conceding the point. Semakis clicked his mandibles. "Are you so loyal to the old Kell that you'd defend him even now?" His amber eyes gleamed with amusement. "Or are you simply put out that I made my play before you could?"

If the new Kell had hoped to defuse the situation without violence, his hopes were dashed when Parsiliks roared in fury. He brandished his swords in two hands, but then his other hands came up, shock pistols raised high. But before he could lower them to fire at the Eliksni who had usurped his aspirations, they were shot from his dactyls by two expert shots from a shock rifle. The Baron snapped his furious gaze toward the Captain who had dared fire on him.

Feniks lowered her weapon as she stepped forward, putting her body between the Baron and the new Kell. Parsiliks spat at her and started to draw forth his own rifle, but then Feniks drew her knife and held it up. " _Ne yus chu sloat,_ " she spat back at him. " _Da hoor re!_ " There was a hissing sound from around the chamber as the Eliksni heard both her insult and her challenge. Eyes turned to Parsiliks, who howled, stomping the deck in apoplectic rage.

" _Di kas kir!_ " he snarled back. He started to advance, but was checked when another Baron interjected now, vents in the head of his maul glowing with scorch energy.

"Captain Feniks challenged you in the ways of old," Morsik the Hammer growled at him. "Choose your next action carefully, O Baron."

Parsiliks looked around at the other members of the Gears Barony, who stood in front of the huddled ranks of the House, arms folded, watching him. He hissed at Morsik, but then he barked one of his own Captains forward, handing the Eliksni his rifle and sweeping off his cape. As his Captain backed away, he faced the one who'd challenged him, drawing out his own knife and holding it up, showing his needle-sharp teeth. Feniks returned the expression, likewise handing off her rifle and cape. Morsik and those few Fallen still in the dueling circle that had formed withdrew to its perimeter as Baron and Captain circled each other. On his throne, Semakis sat down, looking momentarily troubled, but watching intently as the duelists circled each other, then charged.

It was a shorter duel than the other Barons had expected. Parsiliks was no slouch with a blade, but Captain Feniks had been ready for his every move, dodging most and parrying those she couldn't dodge. He had reach and strength, but she had speed and flexibility. He managed to lock her swords in a block as he swung one sword overhead, then thrust with the other, severing one of her metal arms. She let out a shriek of pain, but then her other metal arm flashed out with her knife, and it caught him with a very personal wound.

Parsiliks howled in agony and Feniks swept his overhead sword aside, then slice the wrist of the hand which held the other. As his blades clattered to the floor, he lashed out with his knife, leaving a gash along her side, but she was already cutting this from his hand as well. And then she was behind him, swords crossed under his throat, and the edge of her knife at the base of his neck. She raised her gaze to the throne, waiting for the new Kell to pass judgment.

Semakis had a brief look of relief as the Captain emerged victorious, then looked grim as he sat forward to look down at the recalcitrant Baron. "Parsiliks, you have served this House as bravely as anyone. I am loathe to deny this House one such as you." His eyes blazed. "But you challenged the ascendant Kell and this cannot be tolerated." He made a gesture of finality. "End it, Captain."

Feniks nodded and her blades slashed in one fluid movement, splashing the deck with ichor, and releasing a wisp of ether. She let Parsiliks' body drop, and bowed as Semakis descended from the throne to stand over the dead Baron. With a sigh, he collected the fallen knife and took the Baron's cape. Arranging them as decorum demanded, he then spoke solemnly. "Parsiliks, once of House Gears, now of None. Once, we were peers. Equal of standing in our House, I nevertheless regarded you as my teacher. You taught me much, but now you go where you might learn things anew, and where lessons need not be harsh."

All present lowered their eyes as Semakis led the prayer for the dead, echoing the ancient word that so marked it. " _Yarra._ Go now and find your place in the Land of Endless Ether. _Yarra_. May the Great Machine guide you through the Calm Lands to the House of Eternity. _Yarra_." And all Eliksni repeated the last two segments of the prayer as one: "Fallen not forgotten. _Yarra yarra yarra._ "

He signaled for the splicer attendants to take away the body, but then he regarded the Baron's swords. Semakis nodded once and walked back to the throne. "Captain Feniks! Step forward." He looked down at her, then looked around the chamber. "Our House has lost a Baron. You defeated him in the challenge of old. By ancient custom, you therefore get the spoils of said challenge."

She looked up in surprise at this. He looked around the chamber. "Do any of the Barony object to the advancement of Feniks to join their ranks?" When no refusal was forthcoming, Semakis nodded. "Feniks of House Gears, bow." She did so, arms spread to her sides.

Semakis raised up the Baron's swords and crossed them, resting the flats on her shoulders. They closed in just enough for her to feel the kiss of their edge on her neck. The ritual reminder: _the Kell held a Baron's life in his dactyls_. He lifted the swords again, uncrossing them, then tapping the flats to her shoulders once more. He lifted them, then reversed his grip on the swords, holding them out to her. She lifted her head, reaching up to take them, flipping them around and pressing the edge of the swords back to the Kell's neck in kind. The ritual reminder: _a Baron can also end the life of a Kell._ Then she withdrew them and reversed her grip again, bowing her head, ritualistically putting herself under the Kell's authority.

"Eliksni of my House!" The Kell of Gears' voice thundered now. "Fly your banners high and raise your voices for Feniks, Baroness of House Gears!" And the walls rang with the stomps of their feet and the clangs of their fists to their chests.

* * *

Feniks was broken from her reverie by the clanging of a boot on the deck of cargo hold. She looked up to see her Ghost watching her silently. Then she turned to Baez, who gave her a sympathetic look, and then the old Titan just pointed. The ship had docked at the Vestian Outpost at the Reef. The Baroness nodded and rose, taking one last look at her sword before sheathing it. She started toward the hatch, where Shaman-9 checked her. "They won't let you take your weapons-"

"The old scribe does not have the authority to deny me _anything_ ," Feniks hissed. "Not now."

Waiting for them on the docks was a selection of Reef Guard, along with a party of Reef-sworn Fallen, led by Variks. They all stood behind a hovering slab, on which was arranged the body of Semakis, late Kell of Gears. His banner was draped over him, though his head was left exposed. The sight of her Kell drew Feniks up short. She stood over the slab, shot one look at Variks, and then took a deep breath.

"Whatever else our people may say of you, scribe," she said without looking at Variks, "you honored my Kell after he passed. In this, I thank you." She looked about to continue, but checked herself. She looked down at the body for several long moments.

The Guardians accompanying her stood back respectfully. Feniks' Ghost hovered with them as well. Shaman-9 looked at it. "They're speaking Eliksni. Can you tell what they're saying?"

"Mostly," the Ghost admitted. "Some of it isn't really meant for others to hear." It looked at the Warlock. "She's really angry. An angry Fallen Baron is bad enough, but now she's a Guardian..." It trailed off, and the Guardians all nodded.

"Grieving Guardians can make very bad decisions," Baez agreed. "And some of them go to very dark places. Like Eriana-3 did."

Then Feniks' voice rolled toward them, still speaking her people's tongue, but they recognized her tone. Her Ghost spoke in a whisper. "She's eulogizing the Kell, like she did for Aurelio." It did not, however, translate for them.

When she had finished her short speech, she placed her hands on the slab. And the other Fallen, Variks included, intoned the prayer with her. " _Yarra. Das fre ma fin chus la Nat Goden Le. Yarra. Go'Lot ges chu En Hu Nat-vos a Mi Goden Shas. Yarra. Dar-vos En Met. Yarra yarra yarra._ "

The Fallen were all quiet for a long moment. Then Bolvan and Wahei stepped forward. "Baroness, we can see that your Kell's body is looked after on our ship," the Voidwalker said. She glanced at Variks, then back to her. "I imagine you have some things to discuss with House Judgment."

Feniks took a deep breath, then nodded her head. She watched as the two led the slab back toward Baez's ship. Then she rounded on the old scribe. "Where is Nemak?!"

* * *

Some Eliksni translations:

Ne yus chu sloat - 'I name you prey.' Although 'prey' is probably the _politest_ translation.

Da hoor re! - 'Face my challenge!'

Nat Goden Le - Land of Endless Ether.

En Hu Nat-vos - Calm Lands

Mi Goden Shas - House of Eternity

These translations are drawn partly from old lexicons that I'm still using and partly from the Fallen Language Errata on the Ishtar Collective website. Any 'older' translations I use can be chalked up to the Gears dialect. Yeah. That's the ticket. I've also made up some words/phrases wholesale again. (I may go back and edit past chapters later, once this fic is done, to update any Eliksni language to fit what Ishtar Collective has.)


	23. Prison of Elders

**Chapter 23: Prison of Elders  
**

* * *

Look upon the Kell of Pain.

Grown to his full size with his leader's ration of ether, he commands the space he occupies. Equally broad in both sets of shoulders, his silhouette stands out against the burning orange light that pours forth from the great forge. Swathed in blackened armor, his metal arms gleam brightly, burnished to shine, emblazoned with glyphs and markings, the dactyls sharpened and honed to lethal points. Around his neck, a ruff of blackened fur sways in the waves of heat from the forge, the banner of his house stirring from the same.

His ether-mask extends in a crest to either side of his head, asymmetrical with the spikes adorning either end. In the front, over his maw, the mask has been carved with lines into the glyph denoting _pain_. With the tubes of ether connecting to the stores on the back of his armor, this black-etched glyph resembles nothing so much as teeth, bared in a forbidding grimace. A mane drifts back from the mask, the standard noble's headdress of the Eliksni, but in contrast to his house's colors, it is bleached bone white.

As he watches the tech-priests and engineers beneath the great forge, one fist clutches the shaft of the maul that in part gave him his sobriquet. The glow of his eyes sears across the scene before him, and as those below in the forge see him looking, they redouble their efforts to work even faster, in defiance of the limitations of the equipment they happen to be using. Their Kell's reputation and his fearsome temper are well known. Many of those below had heard the agonized roars as he underwent the surgery that saved his life after his attack on the Gears Kell. Certainly, he had not suffered any delays in his plan to enact another Great Campaign against the City-That-Docks.

He has heard the whispers, as well. The worried talk among the dregs and wretches and even some vandals who wear his House's colors. That the Kell of Pain is mad, diseased in the brain, to think that his ragtag, fledgling House can accomplish what the Devils could not, what all the Houses could not at the Battle of Six Fronts, or in the Twilight Gap. That they should never have followed him, for he is an oath-breaker and a would-be Kell-Slayer. All these murmurs and more besides, all of the same flavor, the same mistrust, the same dissent.

He has heard these things, and it only further stokes the fires that rage in his heart. He understands now why his people are called Fallen. How deep the weakness has gripped them. To have followed weak leaders for so long, that a strong one frightens them. It does not matter to the Kell of Pain if they fear his supposed madness. They will come to understand that this is the only way forward. They will come to know glory even if he must drag them up a mountain of _she'lot_ corpses.

He casts his mind back to the furious missive he had received after his broadcast to all Eliksni in this wretched system. His words had been meant to galvanize a despairing people, to draw them to his banner, to rally a new House from the remnants the _sha'ir_ had left behind. Many a displaced or disenfranchised captain or baron had sent their oaths to him, and their ships soon followed. But one message had come from the Kell of Kings. The gold-bannered Kell had railed at him, enraged at the presumption that a betrayer like him could form his own House. The King Kell had demanded of him that he kneel to the ruling house, or take what true loyalists he had and join the Exiles on Luna.

In response, the Kell of Pain had taken his Scorch Hammer and smashed the messenger's head into nothingness, then had the body sent back to its master. If the House of Kings would not acknowledge his strength now, they would after he led his House into victory over the accursed _She'lot_ City. And then they would see who knelt to whom.

* * *

Things were tense on the shuttle. A full squadron of Royal Guards surrounded the three figures in the middle of the space. Paladin Ikhlas Sard glowered at them from her position in front of her squad. Like many of her comrades, she did not like the Guardians being allowed access to the Reef in any way. Their people had survived out here by not inviting trouble from their neighbors. Between the inexorable Cabal scouting legions occupying Mars on one side, and the temperamental Jovians on the other, and the ever-present threat of Fallen ketches or Hive tomb-ships passing through, the Reef had enough problems. The Guardians had a habit of causing trouble, moreso in recent years.

Paladin Sard saved a particularly baleful glare for the wizened Variks, who pretended not to notice. For all that the scribe had never failed to express or demonstrate his loyalty to the Queen or the Reef, Sard also knew that Variks still had loyalty to his own people and was always looking for ways to pull them out of their desperate downward spiral. Variks had been one of the primary contacts for the bounty hunters that had come tracking Wolves and other escapees. In Sard's mind, Variks was the nucleus around which a lot of the present problems had concentrated.

Sard turned her attention to the Guardians in the shuttle. The first, the one styled the Eternal Warrior, was capable of slaughtering everyone on the shuttle. But she also knew that he was not the type to do so without cause. Still, Sard reflected, the scuttlebutt was that the Eternal Warrior's blood-brother had just been killed by a Fallen terrorist. So who knew what his mental state was now. As for the other, she had seen Shaman-9 on some of the Warlock's infrequent visits to the Reef. He had aided his comrades in their hunts and the culling of high-value prisoners, but left the regular trade and knowledge-seeking to his Awoken partners. While the guards, and Sard in particular glared at him, Shaman had simply pulled up a chair and sat down, resting his palms on his knees and leaning his head back. Beneath his visor, his eyes dimmed as he entered into some sort of sleep mode or meditation. Sard put him out of her mind. As a Guardian, he needed watching, but everything she knew of him suggested he would avoid making problems as best he could.

Not like the other Fallen in the shuttle. Baroness Feniks stalked back and forth in what little space there was in the shuttle. She had her weapons as well, which went against every rule the Reef had about outsiders this far into their territory, and _especially_ against every rule concerning the Fallen. Variks and Regent Petra had vouched for a few of the tamed Wolves that had knelt again to the Reef's authority, but the Baroness was certainly not one of them. Sard shifted her attention to Feniks, who barely acknowledged her, and then to the rust-red Ghost that hovered nervously nearby.

"If it were up to me," Paladin Sard finally broke the silence with her sharp tone, "I'd throw every last one of you Fallen into the Prison and be done with you." She glared at Shaman-9. "Maybe find a cell for the Guardians, too."

Shaman did not rise to the bait, though Baez paused, turning his grizzled face to her, while Feniks whirled on Sard with fury blazing in her amber eyes. Variks thumped his staff against the deckplate with a resounding _clang_. "But it is not up to you, yes?" Variks held no fear in his stance as he shuffled forward to address the Paladin. "Prison of Elders is my responsibility. I do not answer to you. I answer to Petra, to House Sov."

Paladin Sard glared back at him. Petra Venj had been the one to allow the Fallen Kell access to their medical facility, which brought the recent terror attack down on them to begin with. She didn't much care for the Regent either, right now.

The shuttle came to a stop, and the Reef Guard filed out before their "guests" followed suit. Paladin Sard brought up the rear. The group continued on through the main prison gate and then through a set of meandering corridors, which force-field gates at corners and with armed turrets tracking their movement. At a junction, Variks led them to a control center, from which the Guardians could look over a bank of monitors and screens, showing the cryo-cells which housed the inmates of the infamous Prison of Elders.

Every cryo-cell had a holo-tag, denoting in Reef-sign which race the cells contained. Variks ran his eyes over these, pointing. "Hive. Vex. Cabal. And here, Fallen." He tapped a few commands into the console, and the Guardians saw one cell being moved from its holding rack. He tapped a dactyl against the screen. "Scourge of Aulus, Nemak, the Archon of Pain, awaits you."

* * *

One moment Nemak had been suspended in a stasis field as the _hosh'ir_ guards and the _Los-vo ko_ brought her before a stern _hosh'ir_ female. The Archon had glared at her, her invective locked in her jaws as the stasis field rendered her incapable of speech. The _hosh'ir_ female had raised her solitary eye to meet her glare with one of her own, then made a chopping motion in the air. "Throw her in the Prison, Variks. Once we've put out the fires she started, we can decide what to do with her." A wry smirk twisted her lips. "Besides, I just bet we've got someone who wants to talk to her coming soon." She turned dismissively. "Get her out of my sight!"

Then there had been nothing. The stasis field had clamped down on her, such that Nemak's awareness had been taken from her. There had been cold, a deathly chill that had wrapped around her. And then there was light again, paltry as it was, and gravity snatched her down as she dropped from a cylindrical cell and into a somewhat expansive chamber. The Archon rose from her landing crouch and took in her surroundings.

There were signs that her Eliksni brethren had been in this place before. The usual cobbled-together hodgepodge of machinery and metalwork. Scratched into panels here and there were the sigils of various Houses, painted over and re-scratched with a different House, over and over. Satchels of stolen tech hung in netting from the ceiling. Nemak scowled beneath her ether-mask. She recognized these things from footage the _She'lot_ shared among themselves. The Prison of Elders, where so many Eliksni had been incarcerated.

Taking stock of herself, Nemak realized she still had her staff of office. She checked her gauntlet, but her override controls were disabled. There were no shanks or servitors here. No sign of any of her House- No, wait. More cryo-cells were disgorging their contents into the chamber. Dregs and vandals mostly. None of her Infiltrators, however. As they recovered from the cryostasis, the members of the House of Pain recognized her and bowed in recognition.

A hatch in the side of the chamber opened, but as the House of Pain moved toward it, a huge mechanical eye, wreathed in energy, stared them down. It slowly withdrew through a port in the ceiling of the connecting tunnel, and the House of Pain drew back as two figures strode forward. The first's robes twitched aside as he drew forth a sword with one hand, Void Light glimmering along its edge, a hand cannon in his spare hand. The Sunsinger's fires glimmered beneath his helmet as he backed the Fallen away.

If they backed away from the Warlock, the sight of the imposing Titan with his helmet's stern visage glaring at them certainly did, aided in no small way by the appearance of the Singing Thunder in his hands. The Fallen had learned to respect and fear the powerful machine gun, knowing that it had walked out of Mare Imbrium and countless other battles, its legend only growing.

Nemak strode forward, planting her staff on a deck as she stood above the ranks of her fellow imprisoned Fallen. Like a few others of her race, she had learned to speak the _She'lot_ tongue, if only for intel purposes. "Two Guardians, against me and mine?" The Archon spat. "Even without weapons, we would bury you beneath our numbers."

The Warlock nodded. "You would kill us?"

The Titan grunted. "We would kill you back."

Nemak drummed her dactyls on her staff. "So the coward can't kill me himself, so he sends _Sha'ir_ to do it instead." She raised her staff. Reverting to Fallen-speak, she declared, "Variks is weak! But we are not weak!"

The Fallen with her shouted in unison, _"Ours is a house of strength!"_

 _"Your House?!"_ The House of Pain were brought up short not just by the voice's interruption, but by the fact that it, too, was in Fallen-speak. Four amber eyes glared in the gloom of the corridor behind the Guardians. The dregs and vandals withdrew further as the Eliksni that approached was wearing the colors of what had been, for many of them, their former House. More than that, as she stalked into the light, they saw the Sawtooth Swordbow in her hands, a weapon which only belonged to one Eliksni.

Nemak was agog. "Feniks? Our Kell swore he killed you when we broke from your House." She clanged her staff against the deck. "Smashed you with his mighty Hammer and left you impaled on a wall!"

"I live, I die, I live again," the Baroness replied. "You think that I would die while such treachery as you and Morsik have committed goes unanswered? That I would die without seeing that the jumped-up _wretch_ who murdered my Kell meets the Hand of Justice?" She tilted her head and ran her eyes along the ranks of dregs and vandals in front of the Archon. "That I would die before making it clear what happens to oath-breakers?"

But the Archon of Pain swept her head from side to side, a snide expression beneath her mask. "Still, you persist in following Semakis. His weakness would have been the end of us. It was only right that someone cut that weakness from the world."

Feniks howled in rage and stalked forward. A pair of vandals lunged toward her, but she slammed one to the ground with one arm and buried the shrieking Sawtooth into the chest of the other. The one on the ground thrashed, but Feniks drew forth her swords and plunged them into his chest. As she rose from dispatching him, she looked up to see Nemak before her, thrusting her staff's stiletto through her chest.

"Join your Kell, if you'll defend him so fiercely," the Archon hissed, wrenching the spike free with a gush of ichor and a wisp of ether. She watched as Feniks collapsed, then looked up at the Guardians, letting out a laugh. _"Di kas kir,"_ she promised them.

"I wouldn't be so confident," the Warlock told her. He gestured with his sword behind her.

Nemak turned just in time to see one of the Blessed Machines, rust-red in color, snapping closed, and Feniks rising back to her feet. The Baroness made a show of brushing off her now unblemished and undamaged chest, and then intoned, "I live, I die, I live again. The Great Machine chose to give me the Blessing." She nodded to her Ghost, who bobbed in the air in return. "I told you, _wretch_ , that I would not die before seeing your treachery is answered."

The Archon thrust her spear again, but this time Feniks caught the shaft and deflected it, grabbing it firmly in one fist. Sunfire blossomed, scorching the burnished metal of Nemak's staff. Feniks glared at her, then focused, causing the Solar fire to suddenly engulf the entire staff. With a shriek of alarm and pain, the Archon released it, staggering back. The Eliksni Guardian hurled the burning spear in her direction, causing Nemak to have to flash away from it.

Feniks was already there waiting for her. One fist crunched into her ether mask, denting it, fracturing the lenses over one set of eyes. Nemak swung a pair of fists of her own, but Feniks blocked them with her own arms, then pounded her in the mask again, the force of the blow driving the Archon to her knees, howling in pain. As she clutched at her shattered ether mask, from which the precious vapor was already leaking, the Baroness stepped behind her and grabbed both of her metal arms, bending them backward. Feniks drew her swords, and the sound of their unsheathing told Nemak what awaited her. The Archon gibbered pleas, but the Baroness mercilessly thrust her blades forward, then slashed them down, severing the metal limbs from Nemak's body.

"Docking is the _least_ you deserve," Feniks spat. Nemak lay on the ground, doubled over in agony, and the Eliksni Guardian sneered. "What is wrong with you, _wretch_? Did your traitorous Kell not speak of how pain would make you _strong?!_ " She gave her a kick, sending her rolling toward the ranks of her new House. The dregs and vandals shied back, looking from their fallen Archon to the Risen Baroness with drawn blades and righteous fury. "My Kell said that seeking peace is not weakness, and that seeking war is not strength, but make no mistake, _wretch_ , if war comes, it will find my House ready!"

Feniks lowered her blades and tapped her gauntlet. The cryo-cell lowered from the ceiling, and opened again. Nemak lifted her head to see this, and started thrashing on the ground, trying to scramble away. The Baroness snatched her up and held her up by the neck with one arm. "Death would make you a martyr for those fools that will persist in following your mad Kell. Even though I have more than the right to execute you for your betrayal, the most fitting fate for you is to languish here, in Prison of Elders." She threw Nemak back into the cell, slamming the panel shut. "Once your House has been destroyed, I'll come back for you, _wretch_ , and maybe then I'll grant you an ending."

The Archon's last howl was left frozen in her throat as the cell's panel glazed over, leaving her an insert shape behind fog and frost.

Feniks turned now to the dregs and vandals. She turned her eyes along their ranks, but then addressed the two Guardians, who had closed up behind them. "Start record," she told them, speaking the human tongue. Shaman-9 nodded and turned to his Ghost, which began recording.

* * *

 _The Baroness stood in the Prison of Elders. Behind her, just visible frozen in her cryo-cell, was the Archon of Pain. The Baroness raised her swords, so that the sigil of House Gears could be seen, as presentation of her bona fides, as if the sight of her trademark weapon in her other hands was no indication. Her amber eyes stared down the viewer before she spoke._

 _"Hear me, Eliksni. Hear me, O lost and benighted brethren. Listen to me, be you Gears-born, Winter-born, humbled Wolf, remnant Devil, or Exiled."_

 _She put the Sawtooth Swordbow away, beneath her banner on her back, still speaking clearly._

 _"House Gears was not always strongest House of our people. But our Kells were renowned for their cunning. Our House was known for our craftwork. While other Houses bashed their heads against the_ She'lot City _'s walls, we built our weapons and fortifications, readying ourselves, and waiting."_

 _She turned to cast her gaze back at the frozen Archon, then turned back to the viewer._

 _"Some thought our House weak. Some even within our House. But Semakis, Kell of Gears, believed that seeking war was not strength, but neither did he think that seeking peace was weakness. He retained strong relations with House Winter. He extended hand to Exiles, offering another chance, but only one. And when he saw that continuing to fight a war that had lasted more than a hundred orbits- a war that had cost our people leadership, ether, resources, and countless, countless Eliksni- when he saw that continuing to fight that war would only cause us to dwindle away to nothing._

 _"So my Kell reached out to the_ She'lot City _and called for a cease-fire between them and our House. And for this, Eliksni who swore oaths to him betrayed his House. Left him mortally wounded. And left me... dead._

 _"But I live, I die, I live again."_

 _With a gesture, her rust-red Ghost appeared beside her. Solar fire glimmered along her dactyls, fashioning itself into a wedge-shaped claw. Outside the viewer's eye, a sussurration of astonished whispers of dregs and vandals could be heard._

 _"The Great Machine has at last seen fit to bestow upon the Eliksni the Blessing. Not because we sought to take it from the_ She'lot- _"_

 _She paused thoughtfully, before continuing._

 _"-from the humans, but because we sought to find a place where peace could grow. This is the higher wisdom our people have failed to see for generations. The higher wisdom my Kell long believed to be true, now vindicated at last by the Blessing of the Great Machine. Seeking peace is not weakness."_

 _With a clench of her fist, the flames grew brighter, and her eyes shifted back to the viewer._

 _"Make no mistake, if the so-called House of Pain wants war, then it shall find that House Gears will give it one. All those who wear the black banner will face the Hand of Justice. I speak now not as Baroness-"_

 _She drew herself up to her full height, and seemed to grow taller still._

 _"-I speak to you as Feniks, E Lot Mi, Gar Ge. The First Blessed and Kell of Gears. All Eliksni who want a future in the Light, be you true in your faith, you are welcome beneath my banner! But if you are false, if you seek to betray the Gears banner again, there will be no mercy."_

 _She had to pause as the Fallen before her cried out in supplication, kowtowing and asking forgiveness. The viewer drew back, showing the dregs and vandals before her casting off their black colors, claws raised to her. She inclined her head to them, and then regarded the viewer once more._

 _"But to those who call themselves Barons of this upstart House, and to he that styles himself Kell... your betrayal will not be forgiven. There is no escape from the Hand of Justice for you. Call me Adresiks Reborn. I am coming for you, Morsik."  
_

* * *

 **Afterword:** Apologies, Guardians, for the long delay for this chapter! Between moving house, the holidays, and then a variety of distractions, I found myself struggling on how to approach this confrontation. However, joining up with a small writing community on the Facebooks and the recent revelations about _Destiny 2 Forsaken_ has reinvigorated my creative juices again. I can't promise that the rest of this story will plug along at a decent rate, but I think the end is in sight. I've got the end more or less mapped out from here, and yes, there will be a follow-up story following that which will deal with the Red War, and especially with the Scorn after _Forsaken_ comes out. Until then, stay strong, constant readers!


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